


Probably Worth Doing

by thesaddestboner



Series: bang ’em up bruiser queen [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Angst, Detroit Red Wings, Drunk Sex, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Infidelity, Mutual Pining, Non-Famous Family Members As Characters, Porn as Plot, Rule 63, Self-Esteem Issues, Semi-Public Sex, drunk but consensual, mention of family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 02:25:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1140335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first few days after they win the Cup pass by in a dizzying blur of color and sound.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Probably Worth Doing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [annabeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/gifts).



> I wrote this for [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/profile)[**annabeth**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/).
> 
> [Trattoria Stella](http://nullrefer.com/?http://thequeenoftides.blogspot.com/2011/06/trattoria-stella-heaven-in-restaurant.html) is an actual place in Traverse City, Michigan. 
> 
> The full text of the Swedish love poem can be found [here](http://nullrefer.com/?http://serbeena.deviantart.com/art/A-short-Swedish-love-poem-with-translation-338773346)
> 
> Hover over the Swedish for hopefully accurate translations.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

_“Anything that gets your blood racing is probably worth doing.”_ — Hunter S. Thompson

The first few days after they win the Cup pass by in a dizzying blur of color and sound. Nik spends most of those first days drunk, draped over Jo’s shoulder, never without a cool bottle of beer in her hand. When she finishes her beer, it’s immediately replaced with another.

Somehow, she never gets sick. Not like Franzen, who pukes in the bushes during the party at the Lidströms’ house when they get back to Detroit. Not like the kid, Helm, who passes out in a lawn chair beside Lidas’ pool with a beer in hand. Nik just ends up feeling like she’s floating on clouds or something, every muscle in her body loose, warm. When she brings a hand to her face, the skin at her jawline is hot to the touch.

Nik’s stretched out on her back in the grass in the Lidströms’ backyard, a half-empty bottle of beer resting on her stomach. She watches it rise and fall with her breaths, honey-colored beer sloshing against the tinted glass.

One of Lidas’ boys—they’re all tall and blond and Nik can’t tell them apart anymore now that they’re growing up—is taunting the family dog with a red Frisbee. Lidas is flipping steaks at his grill with a set of Red Wings-red tongs, while his wife, Annika, waits patiently beside him with an empty platter.

The air is surprisingly cool, crisp for Detroit in June, even at night. Just a couple days earlier, during the parade down Woodward, it had been sweltering. Nik’s t-shirt and shorts had stuck to her like a second skin, and her hair had flattened out because of the humidity. It had been awful, sticky hot, but at least Nik had been too drunk to really care.

Someone lands next to her in the grass with a heavy thump, and Nik looks over. Stuie is flat on his back next to her, laughing, arms spread out in an exaggerated Jesus pose. Nik rolls her eyes.

“Hi, Stuie,” she says.

“Hey.” He tries to roll onto his side but fails, and ends up just flopping on his back again.

Nik raises her bottle of beer to her lips. Stuie manages to knock the bottle out of Nik’s hand with his heel somehow and there’s an explosion of beer in her face and down the front of her shirt.

Stuie can’t help but laugh at her. “Shit. Sorry.”

Nik wipes beer out of her face with the sleeve of her t-shirt and glares at him. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Stuie’s still giggling as he reaches out and tugs at the bottom of Nik’s damp t-shirt. “I know.”

Nik slaps his hand away. “I smell like beer now. Thanks.”

Stuie pushes himself up and pops up on his feet. He looks down at her, still trying to conceal a grin, and holds out a hand to her. “Sorry, Nik. I can get you some paper towels.”

“Don’t bother. I think I’m just going to go home now.” Nik lets herself take his hand and she gets to her feet, knees weak and wobbly, swaying unsteadily. She throws out a hand to keep from pitching over, and Stuie slips an arm around her waist to help her stay upright.

“How much you have had to drink?” Stuie asks, keeping his arm around her waist.

“How’m I supposed to know? I’ve been drunk since we won the Cup,” she says, letting him continue to hold her.

Stuie laughs, and it’s a low rumble in his chest that Nik can feel. It twists up her stomach into knots that she tries her best to ignore. “C’mon, Nik. You shouldn’t be driving. Let’s get some ice water or something.”

Nik pushes away from Stuie, stubborn pride squaring her shoulders. “I’ll be fine. Where’s Melissa?” Nik wants to kick herself the second the name falls from her lips because the playful look slides right off Stuie’s face.

“She’s back home, in San José,” Stuie says, quietly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his khaki shorts. “But you knew that.”

Nik shrugs her shoulders jerkily. She _did_ know that, and she’s not entirely sure why she thought bringing up Stuie’s wife would be a good idea. It’s like poking a hornet’s nest with a stick, practically daring them to come sting you. 

She ducks her head, studies her big toe, wiggles it in the grass. “Sorry. I’m drunk.”

Stuie sighs and rubs a hand through his hair. “Obviously.”

Nik gets a pang of guilt in her gut and kicks savagely at the grass. “Sorry,” she mumbles again.

“It’s all right,” Stuie says. 

Stuie reaches out and lets his hand come to rest at the small of Nik’s back and she has to remind herself not to lean into his touch, not to enjoy it too much. Melissa might be back home in San José with the kids, but she’s never completely out of the picture or off Stuie’s mind.

Nik does let herself sway into his touch though, just a little bit, before steadying herself and pulling away. “Thanks, man. I—I’ll see you around.” Nik speed-walks for the Lidströms’ house, the cool, damp grass prickling the soles of her bare feet. 

Nik slips through the screen door and past one of her teammate’s kids, pads through the kitchen, up the carpeted stairway for the guest bathroom.

She shuts the door behind her and fiddles with the sink knobs. Nik dips her hands under the steady stream of cool, crisp water and then she splashes it in her face. It doesn’t do anything to sober her up any faster, but it does feel nice on her overheated skin.

Somebody raps on the bathroom door.

“I’m in here,” Nik calls out. She pauses, adding, “ _Slå en sjua_ ,” just in case.

“I know. Can we talk?” 

Stuie. Nik sighs and continues to let the faucet run. Her hands are all red and prune-y now. “Can’t it wait?”

“Look, I’m sorry I spilled your beer on you,” he says.

Nik looks toward the sound of his voice, narrows her gaze, wishing she could shoot eye-lasers through the door. “My shirt will survive.”

Stuie doesn’t reply and Nik thinks maybe he’s given up, so she shuts off the faucet and picks up a fluffy blue hand towel to dry her hands. 

The bathroom door swings open before Nik can grab onto the doorknob and Stuie lets himself right in, shutting it behind him. He turns the lock and looks at her, as if challenging her to try and step past him.

She could do it. She could get past him. Stuie might be bigger and a little stronger, but Nik is sneaky, crafty. She’ll wait for a moment of weakness and he won’t even know what hit him.

“You’re not fine,” he says. “And it’s not just about your shirt.”

Nik tries to shove him out of the way, away from the door, but he refuses to budge. “Get out of my way,” she says, grabbing onto his arm. 

Stuie tugs his arm out of her grip and looks at her evenly, his jaw set. “I did something,” he says. “I did something to piss you off and now you’re acting weird around me.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Nik says, turning away from him, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

“Then why the fuck have you been so—so _mean_ lately? I thought it was ’cause of something I did, something I said. But if it’s not... What’s going on with you?” Stuie asks.

Nik turns and glares at him. “It’s not your business.”

“You’re my partner, of course it’s my business. I have to play with you,” Stuie says.

“Not anymore. The season’s over. In a few days, we’ll go home and we don’t have to see each other or deal with each other until August,” Nik says.

Stuie groans and rubs his hands over his face. “You have a point,” he says through gritted teeth, before dropping his hands.

He doesn’t look angry anymore. He just looks tired. Nik can see the twenty-two games of the playoffs in every line on his face, the weary sag of his shoulders, can hear it in his tired sigh. 

He’s sad, angry, tired, locked in a bathroom with her when he should be celebrating with their teammates. With Melissa.

Nik turns away from him and leans back against the cool marble edge of the sink. “Why are you here?” She focuses on the wall, on the robin’s-egg hue.

“Because I was worried about you. Why else would I be here?” Stuie asks.

Nik shrugs. “No reason.”

“I just... I don’t know.” Stuie reaches out, grabs onto Nik’s wrist and she starts at the contact, jerking her arm away. He lets his hand drop. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine.” Nik looks down at Stuie’s hand, at the thin band of white skin on his left ring finger. When she looks up, Stuie’s eyes are on her, expression unreadable. He’s softened his stance a little, shoulders not so squared.

“Nikki, you’re one of my best friends on this team and—”

“Only Zäta calls me Nikki,” she says, distractedly, glancing past Stuie’s shoulder to the door.

“Sorry, didn’t know Z claimed the rights to your nickname,” Stuie quips.

Nik rolls her eyes at him and finally just shoves past him. She leans in the doorway, hip resting against the wooden frame. “Look, I’m going home. I’ll talk to you later.”

Stuie turns and manages to catch her by the wrist. “Wait, come on. Let me drive you.”

“I’m still probably more sober than you,” Nik says, letting him keep hold of her wrist.

He rubs his thumb over her pulse. “Like you said, you’ve been drunk since we won the Cup. I’ve only had one beer. I’ll drive.”

Nik sighs. “I don’t need you to babysit me, Stuart.”

“Oh, so I’m Stuart now,” he says, still smiling at her.

It’s a pleasant smile; Stuie has a nice mouth, and Nik’s often found herself distracted by his full lips, but now his smile just makes her stomach do acrobatic flips. His normally bright blue eyes are still unreadable, something dark and undefinable in them that she doesn’t have the words to describe.

“You’ve always been Stuart, as far as I can tell,” she says. Her voice sounds unfamiliar in her own ears.

Nik feels hot all over, and she wonders if Stuie can feel it too. He’s still holding onto her wrist, and his thumb is resting over her pulse. Maybe he can feel her heartbeat, and how hard it’s pounding in her veins too.

Stuie slides his fingers away from her wrist and she’s almost disappointed—but she’s more disappointed in herself for immediately missing the contact.

“I’ll drive you home,” he says firmly. “I’ll even tuck you in and read you a bedtime story if you want.”

Nik laughs and swats him on the shoulder. “Oh, come on. Don’t be dumb.”

Stuie just shakes his head, giving her an indulgent look, and slips his hand between her shoulder blades. “All right. Let’s go, get moving.”

Nik does as she’s told, and lets Stuie guide her out of the bathroom and down the stairs, back toward the celebration. Franzen and Helm are spinning in the grass in big drunken loops, laughing like delirious school children. Helm comes to a stop and immediately falls to his knees, swaying unsteadily before landing on his back.

Nik finds her sandals and slips them back on, while Stuie goes to tell the Lidströms they’re going. She doesn’t feel so unsettled anymore. Now that Stuie isn’t in her airspace, she feels like she can breathe again.

Stuie comes back for her, with a bottled water that he thrusts in her hands. “I have another one in my pocket, just in case,” he says, swinging his keys on their keyring. “Ready to go?”

“Yep. Let’s get this road on the show,” Nik says, clicking her heels together and saluting him. 

Stuie laughs and leads her to his car, one hand resting heavily between her shoulder blades.

-

The drive to Nik’s place is long and quiet. It actually feels longer than it normally should, but maybe that’s just because Nik is still drunk and her perception is off. Stuie doesn’t say much, outside of the occasional monosyllabic grunt in response to whatever Nik is yammering about. 

He’s still unreadable to her, and she doesn’t like it. She’s used to being able to read him on the ice. She’s used to reading his eyes and knowing, instinctively, what he’s thinking, and communicating wordlessly with him. Maybe she’s lost her mojo now that the season is over.

“We’re here,” Stuie says, pulling into the driveway and killing the engine.

“Thanks for the ride, Stu. I owe you one.” Nik goes to get out of the car, but he turns after her and puts a hand on her shoulder. Nik looks back at him, questioningly, raising an eyebrow.

“Are we ever gonna talk about what happened earlier?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” Nik plays dumb. She’s gotten good at it.

“The weird—whatever _this_ is that’s been going on between us,” he says, gesturing at all the empty space between them.

Nik looks out the window and crosses her arms under her breasts. “I don’t know, Stuie. I’m drunk. I just—”

“You can tell me anything,” he says.

“Don’t.” Nik scratches at her elbow to keep her hands occupied. When she looks back out the passenger side window, she can see Stuie’s reflection behind her. He reaches out and closes a hand over her shoulder. His fingers are warm, and the touch is full of weight.

“Nikki,” he says.

Nik turns and he lets his hand drop from her shoulder. “Stuie, I—”

“I’m sorry,” he says, turning away from her and wrapping his hands around the steering wheel. He flexes his fingers and works his jaw.

“Why?” she asks.

“For calling you Nikki,” he mumbles at the steering wheel.

“That’s not...” Nik’s chest feels tight and she reaches up to rub at the knot that forms in her breast. “I—I liked it when you called me Nikki.”

He looks at her then, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. “I didn’t know.”

“I like how my name sounds in your mouth,” she says, stilling her hand over her heart.

Something sparks behind his eyes—recognition, she thinks, as if he’s seeing her for the first time—and then he’s leaning forward, toward her. Stuie reaches out and cups a hand at the back of her neck, fingers tangling gently in her hair.

“Nikki.” It’s barely above a whisper, but it’s the loudest, clearest sound she’s ever heard. She can feel her heartbeat thudding against her ribcage like it’s trying to pound its way out of her.

“Say it again.” Nik touches his stubbled cheek gently.

Stuie presses his lips against hers and murmurs into her mouth, “Nikki.”

She presses back against him, winding an arm around his neck, and he runs a hand down her back, under her still-damp t-shirt. Stuie’s fingers are on her bare skin and Nik shivers against him. He laughs against her mouth before kissing her again, pulling back to press little wet kisses to her chin and cheek and jawline.

Nik laughs softly and tilts her head up, as she runs her fingers through his hair. “Brad,” she says, and she wonders if she’s ever called him by his proper name. It’s always been ‘Stuie’ or ‘Stu,’ ‘Kronner’ or ‘Nik.’ Calling him by his proper name somehow seems more intimate.

He presses a kiss against the curve of her shoulder. His breath is warm, and his stubble tickles against her skin. “Nikki.”

“Are we—are we going to go inside? Not that I mind this,” she whispers. “Also, the stick shift is digging into my thigh.”

Stuie pauses, brushing his lips against the wing of her collarbone. “We could,” he says, kissing the side of her neck.

“Yes, we could.” Nik closes her eyes.

They manage to get out of the car and into Nik’s house, and once they’re inside, Stuie spins her around and presses her against the door, pinning her wrists to her sides with his hands. He stares at her for a moment, and neither of them make a move. Then he leans in and kisses her again, letting go of one of her wrists to push a hand back under her t-shirt.

Nik pulls back long enough to mutter, “Stuie. Bedroom.” 

“Okay. Yeah. Okay.” Stuie slides a hand to her hip and squeezes briefly, almost possessively, pushing himself away from her.

Nik leads him down the hall to her room and they fall onto the bed together. Stuie yanks her t-shirt off and reaches down to pop the button on her khaki shorts, while Nik tries to do the same for him.

Nik can hardly believe this is happening, but _it is_. This is most definitely happening. Stuie is in her bed, tugging her shorts down her hips and hooking his thumbs in the elastic waistband of her underwear. Stuie is looking at her like she was meant for him, his blue eyes burning neon. 

He wets his bottom lip, running his tongue over it, and he dips his head, licking a stripe down the side of Nik’s neck as he presses warm, callused fingers into her thigh. Nik slides her hands under his shirt and pushes it over his shoulders, and they break apart long enough so that he can tug his shirt off and fling it aside.

“I want to—God, I want to do everything with you,” he says, as he braces himself over her.

Nik twirls a curl of his dark brown hair around her index finger. “ _Everything_?”

“Not like—well, if you want to, then yes, like that,” Stuie says, grinning down at her.

Nik laughs again and hooks a hand around the back of his neck to pull him on top of her. “Sounds like a plan, then, _älskling_.” Nik kisses him again, sucking gently on his bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth before letting go. His lips are red, kiss-swollen, and something twists in her chest, like a key turning in a lock, at the sight of him.

“ _älskling_ ,” Stuie echoes after her. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing,” Nik says. “It’s just a silly Swedish thing. Now, where were we?”

Stuie doesn’t need any more prompting. He kisses the top of her shoulder lightly, between her breasts, down to her navel. 

After he gets a condom out of his wallet—Nik isn’t going to think too deeply about that—and rolls it on, Stuie crawls back between her legs and pulls her against him.

Stuie kisses her, licking into her mouth, and slides a hand down her side to her thigh, hooking her leg around his waist. He kisses her again. “God, Nikki.”

Nik closes her eyes, savoring the feel of his stubble against her lips, her cheeks. She doesn’t know when she’ll get this again, if ever, so she might as well make sure she enjoys the night.

-

When Nik wakes, after, it’s still dark out, though moonlight filters in through drawn curtains. Nik lies there, afghan clutched to her chest, and lets her body settle like a house on its foundation. Every muscle in her body aches pleasantly with the memory of what she and Stuie did in this very bed just hours before. The insides of her thighs are rubbed raw from his stubble, and when she yanks the blanket down a little bit, she can see bruises in the shape of his hand, blooming on her pale skin.

He’s still there, curled up next to her, looking rather restless. His brow is furrowed slightly, and he thrashes a bit before stilling. He’s still naked too, and Nik traces her eyes along the outlines of his muscular body under the bedsheet.

Nik watches him sleep, and wonders what he’s dreaming about. She wishes she could reach out and smooth the line that’s forming between his eyebrows, wishes she could reach right into his dreams and pluck out whatever’s making him so uneasy in his sleep and toss it away.

Stuie stirs in his sleep, but doesn’t wake. Nik leans down and gently kisses the line between his eyebrows, before settling back next to him and drifting back to sleep.

-

When Nik wakes again, it’s finally morning. Stuie is sitting on the end of the bed, dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing the night before, scrolling through something on his phone. Nik slides up behind him, pressing her bare breasts into his back, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Stuie pauses with whatever he’s doing on his phone to reach down and pet her arm. “G’morning.” He strokes his fingertips over her arm in lazy circles.

“Did you sleep well?” Nik kisses his shoulder.

Stuie sighs and stills his hand on her arm. “Not really. It’s fine.”

“Is... everything cool with us?” Nik asks, wondering if she should let him go. She’s nothing more than the other woman in this scenario. Melissa has—will always have—a bond with Stuie that Nik can only dream of.

“Of course,” he says, drawing her arm to his lips and pressing a soft kiss over her wrist.

“I don’t want things to get weird,” she says, pointlessly.

“They won’t,” Stuie insists, letting her go. “Promise.” He slides his phone in his pocket and turns toward her. His eyes are soft, almost apologetic. “I have to go. Gotta pack up my place and make the long trek back to San José.”

Nik pulls the afghan back over her chest. “When am I going to see you? Camp?”

Stuie reaches out and flicks a curl of Nik’s hair off her forehead. He cups her cheek in his hand. “This, this can’t become a _thing_ , Nikki.”

Nik jerks away and pushes his hand down. “What?”

Stuie looks like she’d just finished pasting him into the boards with a hard check. “Melissa... And the kids,” he says, floundering helplessly.

“What do you think I want from you?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. She feels ridiculous, wrapped up in the stupid afghan and nothing else. If they’re going to have this conversation, Stuie could at least pause it long enough to let Nik put on a t-shirt and shorts.

“I, I don’t know. It’s—”

“Are you saying you—you _fucked_ me for my own benefit? Because you felt bad for me? Pitied me?” Nik asks, setting her jaw and clenching her teeth. She shoots him her best eye-lasers, hopes he’s intimidated.

“No! No, it’s just, I really... I really do—care about you, Nikki. But I can’t...” Stuie trails off and tugs a hand through his hair. “I can’t hurt Melissa.”

“But you can hurt me,” Nik quips.

“That’s not what I meant,” Stuie says, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. “Last night was great and... and honestly, it was something I’d been wanting for a really long time, but... It can’t happen again.”

Nik tightens the blanket around her and shuffles away from him. “Okay. You need to leave.”

“Nik, I—” Stuie touches her shoulder but she whacks his hand away.

“I’m serious, you need to leave.” She turns her head, focuses on an imaginary spot on the wall.

Stuie touches her shoulder again, gently. “Nikki, I’m sorry.”

Nik doesn’t respond.

After a few minutes of silence, Nik feels the mattress dip as Stuie finally gives in and gets up.

“I’ll call you,” he says.

She doesn’t believe him.

Stuie leaves, closing the bedroom door softly behind him.

-

The next time the team is all together again is in Traverse City in late August, just as summer starts bleeding into fall and the leaves start to turn brassy. There are some new faces on the team, and Nik busies herself playing host to Marian Hossa. The Wings had beaten Hossa and his Pittsburgh Penguins in the Cup Finals that June; he signed a one-year deal in July to join the enemy and chase the elusive Stanley Cup.

After Nik’s made the rounds, introduced herself to the new guys and reacquainted herself with the rest of the team, she realizes she hasn’t seen Stuie yet.

She spots Jo chatting with Lidas in the lobby of the team hotel later that afternoon, and walks over to them, hailing them.

“Hey guys,” she calls out, laughing when Jo sweeps her up in a big hug and gushes about her day in Karlskrona, with the Stanley Cup. Lidas smiles and nods along agreeably before breaking in to give Nik a hug.

“ _How was your summer, Kronner?_ ” Lidas asks, sounding as if he’s actually interested in hearing all the boring, tedious details.

“ _A never ending whirl of parties and celebrations in my honor, basically,_ ” Nik says, tossing her hair off her forehead. She let it get long over the summer; she’ll have to get it cut before games start in earnest. Nik tugs at the bottom of her old, gray Rolling Stones hoodie and looks around, wondering if she just missed Stuie when she got in to the hotel.

“ _Stuie’s not here,_ ” Lidas says, sounding amused. “ _He, Melissa, and their daughter are roadtripping all the way from San José in an RV. He said something about family bonding time._ ” He chuckles.

Nik’s stomach drops out like a trap door. “ _Oh. That’s nice,_ ” she says, hoping she sounds—mostly—sincere. “ _That’ll be good for him, having Melissa and Cierra with him._ ”

“ _Yeah,_ ” Jo agrees, casting Nik a wary side-glance.

“ _What?_ ” Nik feigns ignorance.

“ _Nothing._ ” Jo just twists her mouth in a grimace and heads off with Lidas.

Nik is about to go to the concierge’s desk to get her room key when the revolving doors _whoosh_ noisily and a statuesque blonde in a lacy white camisole and acid wash skinny jeans walks in. A sullen teenager slouches in after her with a messenger bag tucked under her arm. The blonde lifts her sunglasses off her face and a bolt of recognition sparks in Nik’s chest.

It’s Melissa and her daughter. Stuie can’t be far behind.

Melissa turns and murmurs something to the girl, who heads over obediently to an empty, leather-covered wood bench. Cierra sits down and pulls a Nintendo DS out of the messenger bag, while Melissa marches over to the front desk to get their room keys.

Stuie comes in after them a couple minutes later, pushing a cart loaded with luggage and an equipment bag. Stuie steps around the cart to greet Cierra with a kiss on the temple.

“Hi sweetie. Where’s your mom?” Stuie raffles his fingers in her long blonde hair and the girl squeals, twisting away from him.

“ _Dad_ , stop. You’re messing up my hair,” she whines.

Stuie laughs. “I think you’ll live.”

“You don’t know that. I could totally die,” Cierra says, very seriously.

“Let’s hope not...” Stuie trails off and Nik realizes it’s because he’s looking right at her. He turns back to Cierra and directs her to the bench, nudging the messenger bag over to her with the toe of his sneaker. “I’ll be right back, Cee.”

“Dad, don’t call me that. It’s embarrassing.” Cierra sighs.

“You didn’t mind it before,” Stuie points out.

“Well, I’m starting high school in the fall,” Cierra says, as if that answers everything.

“Sit tight. I’m gonna go get the room key from Mom so I can take our stuff up,” he says, and leaves the girl to her Nintendo game.

Nik speed walks away from the lobby for the hotel elevators, feeling guilty and not really knowing why. 

It isn’t because of what happened between the two of them that summer. She still feels kind of guilty about that. This guilt is different, heavier. Nik feels like an interloper, an intruder on a happy family.

Nik presses the button with the arrow pointing up; she hasn’t even gotten her room key yet, she just wants to get away from Stuie and his family. Maybe she’ll find Jo and crash with her for a bit before getting her key.

“Hey, Nik.” Stuie catches up with her by the elevators and circles around her to lean against the wall, dragging in deep breaths.

“Sound like you’re out of shape, Stu,” Nik chides gently.

Stuie rolls his eyes and laughs good-naturedly. “I’m old.”

“You’re only a couple years older than me,” Nik reminds him.

“I guess that makes you old too,” Stuie says, smiling at her.

Nik glances up at the elevator doors, thinking about watched pots. “I should probably be offended.” 

The small-talk is painful, feels so wrong now after everything that happened between them after the Cup, but this is what it has to be. She has to keep him at arm’s length for her own sake.

Stuie leans in a little, dropping his voice. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you over the summer.”

“It’s fine,” she says, turning away, toward the doors. “I get it.”

“You’re mad,” he says.

“I’m not mad,” Nik insists, still refusing to look at him. “It’s cool, Stuie. It was a thing that happened. And now it’s done.”

Stuie sighs and rubs a hand through his hair. “Things aren’t gonna be weird between us now, are they?”

Nik bites off a laugh. She wants to say, _Well, I guess we should have thought about that before we had sex, and just saved everyone the trouble_ , but she doesn’t. The elevators conveniently ding and slide open, and Nik steps inside.

Stuie looks up, moves away from the wall like he’s going to follow her in, before he glances back over at his wife and stepdaughter. “We can talk later,” he says.

Nik shrugs at him. “Okay, if that’s what you want, fine. Though I don’t know what we need to talk about.”

Stuie finally leaves and Nik presses an entire row of buttons. She needs some time to think.

-

It was a mistake. Nik understands that now, more than ever. Having sex with Stuie was a huge mistake and she feels like everyone can see it on her, like a different type of scarlet letter embroidered on the front of her away jersey.

Zäta skates over to Nik during warmups before their intrasquad game and taps Nik on her shin pads.

“ _Nikki, what’s going on with you_ ,” Zäta asks, tucking her stick under her arm. She lifts her helmet off, shaking out her damp brown hair before sliding the helmet back on. “ _You seem, like... really preoccupied._ ”

“ _What? I’m fine,_ ” Nik says, studying Zäta’s face, her eyes. Nik wonders how much she knows, or if she just suspects something is going on.

“ _You and Stuie have been out of sync since camp started_ ,” Zäta says. “ _Lidas wanted me to say something._ ”

“ _Why didn’t Lidas come say it himself_ ,” Nik asks, frowning.

“ _He thought it might... help more, coming from another woman_.” Zäta looks uncomfortable now, as she gnaws on her upper lip. “ _Look, Lidas thinks both you and Stuie are off your game. And you damn well know he’s not going to call you out publicly. He just thought it would be best if I said something to you first, so you could work on it before the games start counting._ ”

“ _And what does he expect me to do?_ ” Nik asks.

“ _Just, be more aware. Is what he said. I’m not even really sure what he meant by that_ ,” Zäta says, as she skates away.

Nik sighs. So, Lidas has his eyes on her and Stuie now, and even he suspects something’s off between them. And now Zäta can see it too, if she hadn’t before. Nik wonders if everyone knows something’s going on between her and Stuie. Or, at least, something _went_ on before Nik put a stop to it.

Stuie finds Nik after the intrasquad game and pulls her off to the side, after everyone else has cleared out to the lockerroom. “Just to talk,” he says, which isn’t ominous at all. Nik isn’t sure if her palms are sweating because she’s nervous or because she just played in that exhibition game.

“Did Lids talk to you?” Stuie asks.

“Yeah. I’m guessing he said something to you too, then,” Nik says.

“He kind of danced around it, but I get the impression he thinks something’s going on with us,” Stuie says.

“He wouldn’t exactly be wrong, would he? Apparently both he and Zäta have noticed we’re not quite in sync yet,” Nik says, making air quotes with her fingers.

“No, he’s not,” Stuie agrees, glancing down at her, studying her face. 

Nik has to look away. His eyes are too intense, focused on her like spotlights, and it makes her feel uncomfortable, nervous. She hasn’t felt this nervous around him since that regrettable night in June.

“How do you suggest we fix—” Nik taps Stuie on the Red Wings crest on the front of his jersey. “—this?”

“I think we need to sit down and talk it out,” he says, after a moment’s hesitation.

“That’s all you want to do.” Nik sighs. “I’m tired of talking. And thinking. It is what it is.”

“You don’t think there’s something here?” Stuie asks.

“I—I do, I just don’t think talking is going to fix anything.” Nik turns and leaves the ice.

Nik doesn’t stop to see if Stuie is following her. She feels him though, at her back, and she thinks she can feel his breath in the damp hair clinging to the back of her neck. 

Stuie slips an arm behind her back and leans in. “If you don’t want to talk about this, that’s fine. I won’t press. I just—”

“What? What do you want from me?” Nik turns and he’s right there, looking intently at her.

“I remember what I said, back in June,” he says, ducking his head, lowering his voice to a whisper. His dark, damp hair falls into his eyes and Nik wants to push it off his forehead, but she resists. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Nik asks. She glances around surreptitiously, suddenly afraid someone might see them like this. 

What if Melissa comes by, looking for him? Worse yet, what if Melissa and _her daughter_ come looking for Stuie, and see them together? They’re not doing anything, and yet Nik knows they wouldn’t be able to pass this off as something innocent, harmless. They’re not even touching, but they’re so into each other’s space, it probably looks worse than it is.

“About how I dealt with everything after,” he says, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “And not calling after I said I would. I wanted to, believe me, but I just couldn’t make myself do it.”

“It’s understandable, considering you have a wife and kids, and a life I’m not a part of and all,” Nik reminds him. “Anyway, this probably isn’t the best place to have this conversation.”

“You’re right. Let’s go out and grab drinks before we break camp and head back to Detroit,” Stuie says, finally moving away from her.

“Alright. Sounds like a... plan.” Nik offers Stuie a smile that she means to be reassuring, but she isn’t sure she quite nailed it.

Stuie smiles back anyway, though, and heads for the lockerroom.

Nik stays where she is for a little while longer, turning and examining the banners fluttering from the gray catwalks before going on in.

-

Camp goes a little better after they talk, though everything isn’t quite back to normal. All of Nik’s passes to Stuie are tape-to-tape, and they really do seem to be more in sync on the ice, but there’s this underlying friction between them that Nik can’t completely smooth or soothe away.

Sometimes, when she catches Stuie’s eye on the ice, he looks away quickly, as if he’s embarrassed she caught him staring. It makes her stomach knot up, and she isn’t sure why. 

They _talked_. They have plans to go for drinks later tonight, and put this weirdness behind them, once and for all. Everything should be settled, shouldn’t it?

Maybe things have just changed between them, maybe things just won’t ever be the same.

Right now, Nik’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror and fussing with her hair. She feels like she’s dressing up for a date—which is utterly ridiculous. Stuie doesn’t care what she’s wearing or what she looks like, and it’s most decidedly _not a date_ , and yet here she is. She’s actually put on _makeup_. She hasn’t worn actual makeup in _years_.

She hasn’t even been on an actual, honest-to-god date in months. Her love life consists mostly of random hookups when they’re on the road, and that’s how she likes it. She’s too busy with hockey to maintain a long-term relationship anyway, and the men she picks up don’t seem to mind she isn’t interested in commitment. Most of them, she thinks, enjoy the novelty of hooking up with one of the NHL’s few female players a little too much. Nik doesn’t have to try to be anything she’s not, though.

Which is why the fact she’s currently applying a second layer of lipstick is kind of distressing. It’s just Stuie. She doesn’t need to impress him. Stuie’s never, ever required her to put bring out all the bells and whistles to impress him. 

It’s why they work so well together, she thinks. 

Nik sighs and glares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her dark eyeshadow is a little uneven, so Nik wets a Kleenex and starts wiping at it but she ends up just smearing it even more so that she winds up looking like a raccoon with too much lipstick on.

Grumbling, Nik opens the nylon kit resting on the marble bathroom counter and digs out makeup remover and some cotton balls. Nik glances at her reflection in the mirror and tugs at the front of her peach-colored blouse—yes, an actual blouse as opposed to the threadbare Rolling Stones hoodie she never takes off—and sighs. The top is a little more femme-y than she’s used to wearing, lacy with cap sleeves, but it was on sale at Target and she thought it would look nice paired with the black skirt she wears when the team goes on roadtrips.

There’s a knock on the door and Nik forgets all about the makeup remover and cotton balls.

Nik goes to the door and peers through the peephole in the door. Stuie is leaning against the wall, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. His dark hair looks disheveled, like he just rolled out of bed, threw on some clothes—nice clothes, though—and came to get her.

Nik unlocks the door and lets him into her room. Although the team still requires players to have roommates during camp and on the roadtrips, Nik, Jo and Zäta get rooms to themselves. Some of the other players have grumbled about it from time to time, but no one really seems to mind. 

The three of them even get their own special section in the lockerroom to change and shower, though Zäta has taken to undressing right in front of the guys, particularly rookies and recent call ups, just to mess with them and elicit a reaction. Usually, said reaction is a lot of blushing, stammering, and lack of eye contact.

Stuie lets his eyes skate down her body and back up, before he looks at her face and squints. “Are you wearing makeup?”

Nik rolls her eyes and whacks him on the arm, stepping around him to shut the door behind her. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Stuie grins goofily at her, reaching out and brushing a fingertip over the eyeshadow that’s made its way to her cheeks. “It looks nice,” he says, laughing and pulling his hand back, rubbing his fingers together.

“Oh, laugh it up.” Nik goes over to the minibar and gets a bottled water. “You want anything?”

“Nah. I’m good.” Stuie flops on Nik’s bed and tucks his arms under his head. “Where did you want to go?”

“I don’t really have a preference.” Nik opens the water and takes a couple big sips before lowering it. “Where are Melissa and Cierra?”

“Melissa took Cierra to the beach and then they went shopping. They wanted a mother-daughter day,” Stuie explains, closing his eyes.

Nik chugs down the rest of the water and tosses the bottle in the plastic trash can next to the minibar. “We could go to a bar,” she says, “or we could do something fun.”

“Fun? Should I be worried?” Stuie opens his eyes.

“Like, I don’t know... Karaoke? How about dancing. We could go dancing,” Nik says, twirling around the hotel room, black skirt flaring out. She feels silly, lightheaded. Maybe the heat is finally getting to her.

Stuie sits up and grins at her again. He sweeps a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “You know how to dance?”

“Well, no. But I can fake it with the best of them.” Nik stops dancing around the hotel room and comes to a halt at the foot of her bed.

“I think you’ll do just fine.” Stuie holds his hand out to her and Nik realizes he expects her to help him up.

Nik wraps her hand around his and pulls, but Stuie’s heavy and he just ends up pulling her next to him in the bed. 

“I thought you wanted to go out soon,” she mutters into one of the pillows.

Nik feels his hand on her back, touch light as a feather. “I do,” he says, and he sounds faraway, distant. He strokes his fingers slowly down her back, near the waist of her skirt, and back up.

Nik turns her head and crushes the pillow under her cheek. “What are you doing?” she asks, glancing up at him, through her eyelashes.

“Nothing,” he says, letting his hand come to rest on her shoulder blade.

“Stuie...” Nik struggles to push herself up, but the bed is pretty comfortable and she just lets herself go boneless, collapsing on the mattress. She sighs.

“I’m sorry.” Stuie settles beside her and strokes her side, tucking his thumb under the hem of her shirt to rub some more.

“But not sorry enough to stop,” she says.

“Do you want me to? I will. Just tell me to and I will,” he says.

Nik presses her face into her hands. “You know I can’t.”

Stuie ducks his head and kisses her shoulder. “Then I won’t.”

Nik rolls onto her side and Stuie slides up against her, curling his arm around her waist. Stuie presses his lips against her jawline and kisses down to the valley where her shoulder and neck meet. She can feel his erection through his jeans, pressing against her thigh.

Part of her feels like she should protest, remind him that his wife and stepdaughter are in town, that he’s fucking _married_ and shouldn’t be grinding his cock against her thigh while he sucks marks onto her skin, but another very loud part of her wants this. Wants him, in every way she can have him.

Stuie rolls onto his back and pulls Nik on top of him, sliding his hands down to cup her ass through the material of her skirt. He rolls his hips against her and Nik presses her forehead into his shoulder, grinding down hard against him. Nik slips a hand to Stuie’s cheek and tips his face up, kissing him gently. Stuie tightens his hands on her hips. 

“Would you rather just do this?” she asks against his lips.

“Yeah, I think I would.” Stuie hooks a leg with Nik’s and flips both of them over, so that he’s on top. He pushes her skirt up her thighs and yanks her underwear down.

“What are you—” Nik tries, but Stuie swallows the question with another kiss, as he works her underwear down and off.

Stuie breaks away and slides down Nik’s body, until he’s half hanging off the bed, knees on the carpet, and pulls one of her legs over his shoulder. Nik presses a hand over her eyes, face flushing with embarrassment.

Stuie kisses the inside of her thigh wetly—obscenely, Nik thinks—before moving to the other thigh and pressing kisses along the soft, pale skin.

Nik reaches down and strokes the top of Stuie’s head, sifts her fingers through his hair before he moves lower, settling between her legs. Stuie seals his soft lips around her clit and sucks gently, fingers teasing at the lips of her cunt with a light, barely-there caress.

“ _Oh my God._ ” Nik presses the fleshy part of her forearm over her face and squirms against Stuie’s mouth, wondering why it’s both too much and _not enough_ at the same time. “ _Don’t stop, Brad. Keep going. Please._ ”

It’s not until he parts his lips to lick at her folds, lips wet with her juices, that she realizes she’s been speaking in Swedish. Stuie’s mouth has blasted the English straight out of her brain.

Stuie parts her lips and licks down, in long, teasing strokes, and Nik flexes the leg that’s slung over his shoulder. When she glances down at him, the top of his head between her legs, his hips working against the mattress, she realizes he’s getting off on this too.

He uses a little bit of teeth—not enough to hurt, just _enough_ —and that feels really, really good. Then he adds his tongue, fucking into her as deeply as he can go, and Nik twists a hand in the fabric of her top, hard enough that she hears stitches pop. 

“ _That feels so good_ ,” she whispers.

Stuie slides a couple fingers into her cunt and rubs his thumb in short circles over her clit, humming tonelessly. His stubble rasps against her inner thighs, and she wonders idly about the marks he’ll leave behind. She hopes Jo and Zäta don’t notice when they see her in the showers for their next game, or she’ll never live it down. They’ll both needle her, try to suss out the juicy details about her hookup, and she’ll crack. Or she’ll wither and die from embarrassment.

Either way.

Nik can feel it coming then, a faint twist low in her gut that starts gathering strength as it moves through her. Her fingers and toes start to tingle, and then it spreads through her limbs, through her entire body. Stuie must feel it too because he starts fucking her even harder, urgently, adding another finger, sucking her clit back between his lips. Nik can’t help but make these embarrassing, breathy little sounds as Stuie continues to work her over with his fingers and tongue and teeth, edging her closer and closer to orgasm. 

“Brad,” she gasps, pounding a fist on the mattress inarticulately, “I’m—I’m—”

Stuie hums a little—the part of Nik’s brain that’s still functioning thinks he sounds pleased with himself—and she finally hurtles over the edge. Stuie slips a hand under her ass, holding her in place as the sensation goes from pleasant to far too much way too fast.

The second orgasm crashes through her slowly like a tidal wave in contrast to the first one, almost uncomfortable in its intensity. Nik tries to squirm away but Stuie keeps hold of her, keeps her from straying too far. Nik clutches desperately at the bedsheets, yanking them off the mattress, and tries to stifle a cry that rises in her throat.

Stuie pauses, resting his cheek on her thigh, and whispers hoarsely, “Let it out, Nikki.”

Nik presses her hands against her face and sobs into her palms. 

Stuie wraps his lips back around her clit and sucks, drawing it out, and Nik finally lets go with a shrill cry, lets the heat take her over. She collapses back against the bed, breathing hard, and closes her eyes. The ceiling lights are too bright, and the tinny humming noise in her ears is too loud. She’s vaguely aware of Stuie, his stubble on her thigh, his breaths shallow and damp against her skin.

Time passes—Nik isn’t sure how much—and the fuzzyheadedness eventually fades away. Nik realizes she’s still wearing her shirt, but her skirt and underwear are gone, and Stuie’s not there either. She wonders if he went back to Melissa while she was out.

Nik sits up slowly, wincing at the creaking of the mattress springs, and pulls the hotel comforter into her lap in a futile attempt at modesty. 

Stuie pokes his head out the bathroom door. “You awake?”

“Yeah. Uh, how long was I out?” she asks, rubbing her thumb against her eye.

“Just a few minutes.” Stuie comes back with a damp, warm washcloth. “Here.” He tugs the blanket back and wipes her down gently, before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips.

“Did you—did you get off?” Nik asks, kissing him back.

“Uh, yeah. Um, it was kind of hot watching you lose it like that. I... Yeah.” Stuie blushes and looks away.

“You didn’t even get to fuck me this time.” Nik sighs.

“Next time,” Stuie promises.

“There’s going to be a next time?” Nik tries not to sound surprised. “You said that the last time.”

Stuie has the good sense to wince at that, and look a little bit guilty. “I really didn’t mean for there to be a next time the last time we hooked up, but...” He trails off and hazards a glance at her.

“But?” Nik prompts.

“I... I just...” Stuie fumbles for the words.

“I haven’t got all day,” Nik teases.

Stuie reaches out and wraps a hand around her knee, still not quite looking her in the eyes. “You were wrong. You _are_ a big part of my life, Nik. And I just, I like having you in it.”

Nik closes her hand over Stuie’s. “And I like having you in my life.”

Stuie meets her gaze, finally, and smiles at her. Nik leans in and kisses him, and his lips are wet. He smells faintly of soap and _her_. When they separate, Stuie licks his lips and closes his eyes briefly.

“What?” Nik asks.

“Can we take a raincheck on the conversation we were supposed to be having?” he asks.

“You have to go,” Nik concludes.

“Yeah... Melissa called earlier, while you were dozing. They’re gonna be back in a little bit. They want to go out for dinner,” he says, pressing his forehead into Nik’s neck.

“Okay,” Nik says, reaching up and stroking his hair.

Stuie stays like that, breathing heavily into her neck, before he squeezes her waist and finally lets go. “I’ll see you tomorrow, probably.”

Nik nods at him and offers him a small smile. She should probably feel guiltier that she just fucked her married teammate, married defense partner, for the second time—in fact, she probably should feel some guilt at all. But she doesn’t. She looks at Stuie, who’s still smiling at her, his eyes warm, one hand still resting on her knee, and she feels nothing but _good_ , content, fulfilled. Nik supposes the guilt will come later, after she’s shaken off the last of the afterglow. For now, she’ll let herself enjoy this, for as long as she’s allowed to have it.

Stuie gives her one last kiss, a gentle one against her forehead, before getting up and letting himself out.

-

Nik’s toweling off in the lockerroom after her shower a couple days later when Zäta strolls in and dumps her wet jersey in the laundry cart. She glances up and eyes Nik, brow furrowed, as she starts removing her shoulder pads and protective padding.

“ _What happened to you?_ ”

“ _What? Oh._ ” Nik follows Zäta’s gaze to the stubble burn on her thighs.

“ _Did someone get lucky and not spill the details? Come on, Nikki. I always tell you about what me and Emma get up to_ ,” Zäta says, sitting down on the stool in front of her stall to unlace her skates. “ _It’s selfish of you not to share._ ”

“ _Why would you care what I do with guys? You don’t even like them_ ,” Nik says.

“ _Because I’m your friend? And I like gossip?_ ” Zäta kicks off her skates and scurries over to Nik’s locker, dragging her stool behind her. Zäta plops down and crosses her legs, resting an arm across her knees. “ _Come on. You can’t keep holding out on me._ ”

“ _It’s none of your business,_ ” Nik snaps, pulling her sports bra out of a tangle of clothes in her locker and tugging it down over her head.

Zäta lets out a sharp, high-pitched whistle. “ _You’re never this evasive after you fucked some guy, so it must be someone I know..._ ”

Nik glares at her. “ _Drop it, Henna._ ”

Zäta sighs and pouts. “ _Come on, Nikki. You never tell me anything about your life anymore. You’ve been so weird since June. I miss just shooting the shit with you._ ”

“ _It’s just not something I want to talk about._ ” Nik pulls on a t-shirt and steps into her sweats. She grabs a rubber band out of her locker and ties her wet hair back.

“ _Okay, okay. I’ll drop it,_ ” Zäta says, holding up her hands in surrender. “ _Me and Emma are going to Trattoria Stella for our last night in Traverse City. Why don’t you come, and bring your mystery boy with you?_ ”

Nik blanches, trying to imagine Stuie going out to dinner with her, and Emma and Zäta. The thought is literally terrifying. “ _I don’t know, Z._ ”

“ _Please?_ ” Zäta begs, clasping her hands in front of her in prayer. Nik doesn’t trust the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“ _I’ll think about it. That’s the best I can do right now_ ,” Nik says.

Zäta wraps Nik up in a big hug and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “ _You’re the best, Nikki. You won’t regret it, I promise,_ ” she trills, before letting go of her and running off.

Somehow, Nik doesn’t find Zäta’s promise at all reassuring.

-

Nik paces in front of Jo’s minibar, a bottle of beer clutched in her hands. “ _Zäta wants me to bring my ‘mystery boy,’ ” she says, “but I don’t even know what his name is. It was just a one night stand_.”

Jo looks up at her from her game of Scrabulous. “ _You’re making this a bigger deal than it has to be,_ ” she points out, tapping at her iPad screen.

“ _I told Z I would bring him_ ,” Nik says, sighing exasperatedly. She takes an angry pull of beer and chokes it down, not even tasting it. “ _If I show up without a date, Zäta is going to wonder why I didn’t bring him._ ”

“ _She’s your friend. I’m sure she’ll understand if you tell her he just couldn’t make it_ ,” Jo mutters.

“ _You_ know _Z. You know she’ll needle, press for details_ ,” Nik says.

“ _It’s not as if she’s the queen of the universe, Nik. Just tell her to back off if she gets too intrusive_ ,” Jo says, sitting up and swinging her legs under her body. “ _She finally laid off me when I told her I wasn’t going to tell her if I had a_ man _in my life._ ”

“ _That’s because you’re well over six feet tall and could kick her ass if you wanted to_ ,” Nik points out.

“ _That’s beside the point._ ” Jo swipes her thumb across her iPad screen. “ _I’m sure it’ll be fine._ ”

“ _Will you go with me instead?_ ” Nik asks, putting her beer down on top of the TV and coming over to Jo’s bed. She sits down next to her and offers Jo her most pathetic look.

“ _Ugh. You know I can’t stand the two of them together. They’re always all over each other. Talk about PDA,_ ” Jo says, making a face. “ _Why don’t you take Mule, instead... Or you could take Stuie._ ”

Nik jumps up and lets out an indignant squawk. “ _I’m_ not _taking Stuie!_ ”

Jo raises an eyebrow. “ _Why not? Is it ’cause he’s married? Because he’d go if you asked._ ”

“ _I know he would. I’m not going to do that to him_ ,” Nik grumbles, retrieving her beer and downing the last of it.

“ _He’d do anything for you_ ,” Jo says, and Nik looks at her.

“ _What do you mean by that?_ ”

Jo shrugs and puts her iPad down. “ _He loves you, Nik. You’ve got him wound around your pinky._ ”

Nik ignores the possible implications behind that and gets a second beer from the minibar. “ _You really won’t go with me?_ ”

“ _Zäta invited you and a date. You can just tell her he couldn’t make it, so Stuie came instead,_ ” Jo says.

Nik opens the beer and sips, thoughtfully. “ _I guess I could..._ ”

Jo smiles at her and comes over to pat her on the shoulder. “ _I’m sure it’ll be just fine._ ”

-

Zäta manages to pull some strings and rent a whole wing of Trattoria Stella to have to themselves. The restaurant is old and beautiful, and looks like a castle from the outside. When they get inside, it isn’t much more different. The place is draped in dark, burgundy drapery, and classical music floats in on unseen speakers.

Stuie looks around with big eyes as they follow the hostess to their table. He reaches out and slips a hand to the small of Nik’s back, rubs his thumb under the back of Nik’s shirt. “Fancy place. Who picked this out, you or Z?”

“Z,” Nik whispers under her breath. “She found a review for it in a newspaper and decided it looked nice.”

“I bet this is the kind of place where they serve pig intestines,” Stuie whispers back, retching a little bit.

“All the food is locally sourced _and_ it’s gluten-free,” Emma announces proudly.

“But I like gluten,” Stuie says.

Nik tucks her thumb into her palm and punches him in the arm. “Don’t be rude, Stuart.”

“You’ll like the food here, trust me,” Emma promises, winking over her shoulder at the two of them.

Stuie links his arm with Nik’s, mirroring Zäta and Emma, and pats a hand over her arm. “I’m sure we will.” He smiles back.

“You’re being weird,” Nik hisses, wrapping a hand around his arm.

“You like it.” Stuie smirks, looking smug.

“You’re lucky I do or I’d have punched you even harder back there,” Nik says.

They finally reach their table and the hostess lays out menus. After taking their drink orders, Zäta picks up a flute of what looks like sparkling water and toasts Emma, Nik, and Stuie.

Zäta taps her glass against Nik’s. “Cheers!” 

Nik rolls her eyes but indulges Zäta and does the same. “Cheers, guys.”

“I’m glad you guys could come,” Emma says, reaching over and taking Nik’s hand in hers. “I feel like we haven’t talked in months.”

Nik smiles at her, wondering what on earth they would have talked about. Emma is worldly, beautiful, and glamorous, with acting, singing, and modeling credits under her belt. Nik is pretty sure they’ve got nothing in common besides a homeland and a fondness for Zäta.

“I don’t think we have. What’ve you been up to?” Nik asks her, slipping her hand free to pick up her own flute of sparkling water.

“I went to Ethiopia on a humanitarian mission,” Emma explains, picking up a napkin and unfolding it in her lap. “I helped build homes there for a while. It was so gratifying, you know?”

Nik feels herself start to shrink under the weight of Emma’s accomplishments, accomplishments that sure mean a hell of a lot more than merely playing hockey. “Wow. How long were you there?”

“About a month,” Emma says, glancing over at Zäta. They share a gooey romantic look and link hands over the starchy white tablecloth. “We’re planning on going to Africa for our honeymoon. Henna wants to help me on some of my charitable endeavors.”

Stuie slips his hand under the tablecloth and closes a hand over Nik’s knee. “That’s great, guys. When were you planning on getting hitched anyway?”

“In a year or two,” Zäta says, squeezing Emma’s hand. “We’ve been waiting for a while, obviously. We figured a couple more years can’t hurt.”

Stuie rubs his thumb over Nik’s knee and she shivers at his touch. He smiles. “That’s great, guys. I’m happy for you.”

“So, what about you?” Emma asks.

Stuie and Nik both look at her. “Huh?” Nik asks.

Emma looks at Nik and then Stuie. “You guys are an item, aren’t you?”

Zäta coughs violently into her glass of sparkling water. “Oh, God, Em. They’re not together. He’s got a wife.”

Nik flushes in embarrassment and stares intently at her empty dinner plate. “Yeah. Stuie just came along to be a good sport ’cause the guy I’ve been seeing in town dumped me,” Nik lies.

Stuie slides his hand a little further up and strokes the inside of her thigh under her skirt, stealthily. “My wife and stepdaughter visited for a little bit. They just went back a couple days ago.”

“Oh! Wow, I’m sorry. I sure stepped in it, didn’t I?” Emma laughs, pressing a hand over her breast.

Stuie picks up his glass and sips at his water as he continues to stroke Nik’s inner thigh gently with the pad of his thumb. “Nah, it’s all good.” He looks over at Nik. “What’d you call me that one time? Your stay-at-home husband?”

Nik flushes deeply. “ _Och! Rövhål._ Don’t remind me!”

“What’d you call me?” Stuie asks, barely suppressing another smirk.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” Nik sneers at him.

Stuie laughs and puts down his glass. “I’ll beat it out of you.”

Nik rolls her eyes. “Very funny.”

“I’m just a funny guy.” Stuie pulls his hand back and smoothes her skirt back down.

Nik drains the last of her sparkling water and turns the crystal flute in her hand, rolling the stem between her fingers. “More like funny looking.”

“Ha.” Stuie looks down, pulling his phone out of his pocket and swiping his thumb at the screen. Frowning, he says, “I gotta take this. I’ll be right back, guys.” He pushes away from the table and presses the phone to his ear, murmuring under his breath as he makes his way to the lobby.

Nik’s own phone starts vibrating in her purse a few minutes later, while Zäta and Emma are talking about a reality TV show they did together back home in Sweden, and she pulls it out.

**1 new text message**

Nik frowns and opens it.

>   
>  **text to: Kronner**  
>  **text from: Stuie**  
>  _received: 9/14/2008 8:45 PM_  
>  im in the lobby, come out hear

Nik rolls her eyes and texts back:

>   
>  **text to: Stuie**  
>  **text from: Kronner**  
>  _received: 9/14/2008 8:46 PM_  
>  It’s “here” and ok I’ll be right out.

Nik puts her phone in her pocket and stands. “Sorry guys. I got a text from my mom, it looks like it might be important. I’ll be right back.”

Zäta raises an eyebrow, slipping an arm around Emma’s shoulders. “Okay, Nikki. I’ll text you when the waiter comes by for our orders.”

“Thanks.” Nik smiles at them and turns, hurrying out to the lobby.

Stuie is sitting on one of the benches by the entrance, tapping his toes, looking rather bored. He looks up when he hears the soles of Nik’s shoes click on the tile.

“What’s up?” Nik asks.

Stuie stands and stretches, his Polo shirt lifting up to show off a stretch of skin. “I like them, but I was getting kind of bored,” he admits, pulling his shirt back down over his stomach.

“So you texted me to come rescue you?” Nik gets up on her tiptoes and slaps some dandruff off his shoulders, tugging the collar of his shirt.

Stuie grins down at her. “That, and...” He looks around and, after taking a look around and seeming fairly certain no one is paying attention to them, takes Nik’s hand in his and ducks into a unisex bathroom with her.

Stuie locks the door behind them and presses Nik back against it.

“So that’s what you had in mind,” Nik says, sliding her hands over his forearms.

“Yep.” Stuie kisses her deeply, tongue darting between her lips. His hands curl around her waist, pull her against him firmly.

Nik licks into his mouth, runs her tongue over his bottom lip, tasting him. Stuie groans into her mouth and slides his hands to her ass, grinding into her, squeezing his thigh between her legs. He lifts her skirt up and tugs at his zipper, working his pants open.

She tilts her head back and tightens her hands in Stuie’s hair. “Here?”

Stuie’s fingers explore her, as if he isn’t already familiar. “Yeah. You want to?”

“ _Gud, ja_ ,” Nik says.

Stuie shudders against her and braces her against the door with one arm while he digs in his pocket for his wallet. Nik reaches down and plucks it out of his hand, opening it and getting a condom out.

Stuie pulls away long enough to get the condom on, and then he’s pressing her back into the wall and moving his hands to her hips, lifting her and hooking her legs around his waist. Stuie pushes her skirt up and reaches down to wrap a hand around his cock and guide himself into her. 

“ _Det känns bra_.” Nik closes her eyes and presses her cheek against Stuie’s.

“Dunno what you’re saying, but don’t stop.” Stuie starts fucking her against the wall, gripping her by the hips hard enough to leave more bruises.

Nik shoves the collar of her shirt into her mouth to keep from making noise, and tightens her grip on Stuie’s shoulders. Maybe she’ll leave marks on him this time.

Stuie fucks her like that, up against the wall, in rough, short strokes until she’s coming apart against him, shuddering, clinging to him. And then Stuie follows her shortly thereafter, forehead pressed against her neck, spasming against her. She can feel him inside her, cock jerking, filling the condom, mouth opening wetly on her shoulder.

They stay like that for a little while longer, bodies pressed together, Nik with her fingers twisted in Stuie’s hair, Stuie with his hands still wrapped around her waist. 

Stuie’s the first to pull back, stepping away to take care of the condom and fix himself up, while Nik grabs some paper towels from the dispenser, wets them and cleans herself up as best she can. They didn’t make too much of a mess, but her clothing is disheveled and her hair is damp and messy, clinging to the sides of her face and the back of her neck.

While Stuie is tucking his shirt back into his pants and zipping up, Nik’s phone starts buzzing and she plucks it out of her purse.

>   
>  **text to: Kronner**  
>  **text from: Zata**  
>  _received: 9/14/2008 9:13 PM_  
>  donno where the fuck u guys went off too but we ordered hors d’oeuvres, they just got here. u come back or else me and emma are eating all!!!!!

Nik sighs and shoves her phone back in her purse. She steps in front of the mirror, fluffs her hopeless hair, and turns to Stuie. “I’ll go back first, so they don’t suspect anything.”

Stuie eyes her and just smiles. “All right. Fine by me.” He leans in, gives her a kiss on the lips, and she heads back.

-

The guilt doesn’t start to set in until the next day, when the team is busing back from Traverse City. Nik has a window seat to herself; she thinks Stuie’s in the back, sitting with Lidas. They’re probably having a dad talk or something, bragging about all the cute things their kids are doing.

Nik turns and glances around, searching out Stuie. Sure enough, he’s sitting with Lidas, chatting animatedly, hands flying. His eyes are bright and he’s smiling; he probably _is_ bragging to Lidas about his kids.

Then it really hits her. She’s fucking a married man. Not only that, a married man with _kids_. There’s a whole other aspect of his life she’s not a part of.

Nik wraps an arm around her midsection and hunkers down in her seat. She opens the carry-on bag on the seat next to her, digs out her iPod, and plugs in her earbuds. The music mercifully drowns out the mindless chatter around her.

She can’t keep her mind from wandering, though. Nik wonders what Melissa is doing back home in San José, if she suspects anything. She finds herself wondering if Stuie and Melissa have an open relationship, and that’s why he was so willing to hook up. As she lets her mind wind down these twisting paths, she realizes she doesn’t really _want_ to know the inner workings of Stuie and Melissa’s marriage.

Stuie waves a hand in the air as he says something to Lidas, and Nik catches the glint of his wedding ring. He hadn’t been wearing it in Traverse City. Now he’d finally put it back on.

Nik turns back around, thumbs up the volume on her iPod, and drowns out her thoughts.

-

Nik doesn’t really get much of a chance to talk to Stuie after they get to Detroit and prepare for the home opener. When she swings by the Joe the morning of the opener to cut down some of her sticks for the game, she stops by the ice to get a look at the rink.

Stuie is out there, skating with a small child cradled in the crook of his elbow. The little boy has a miniature, child-sized Red Wings helmet on, the white plastic straps flapping as they cut figure eights into the ice.

Nik watches them for a little bit, before she notices Melissa sitting on the bench with a baby in her arms. Melissa says something to the baby as Stuie and their older son skate by, grasping the infant’s chubby little hand in hers and waving it at them.

Stuie grins at both of them and waves back.

Nik leans against the boards, unnoticed. Something opens up in her chest, an ache right where her heart should be, as she watches this private moment between Stuie and his family. Somehow, spying on the four of them feels like an even worse betrayal than simply sleeping with another woman’s husband.

Nik looks away, finally, and directs her gaze to the championship banners in the rafters. There’s an empty spot next to the banner from 2002. Seeing the gap between banners, the blank space where a banner commemorating their—her—team will go makes the Cup season seem even more real to her. 

The Cup wouldn’t have happened without Stuie. Someday, Nik thinks, when she isn’t so wrapped around him, she’ll thank him.

They’ll put the Cup at center ice later that night, where Stuie is currently skating with his son.

“ _You shouldn’t stare. It’s not nice._ ”

Nik looks over her shoulder. Jo puts an arm around her neck and pulls her away from the glass. “ _What do you want?_ ”

“ _Come on. Let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving,_ ” Jo says.

Nik lets Jo pull her away.

-

They end up losing the game to Toronto in overtime, but it’s still pretty exciting to see their Stanley Cup banner lifted to the rafters, and to present the Cup to the fans on their home ice.

Nik retreats almost immediately after the game is over to strip out of her gear and shower the game off, before heading home to an exciting evening of cheap wine, expensive cheese and crackers, and DVR’d episodes of _House M.D._

When she emerges from the showers a few minutes later, freshly-scrubbed, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, Zäta and Jo are in front of their lockers, playing a card game in their shower caps, towels, and shower shoes. Nik raises her eyebrows in question, but says nothing as she steps around them and heads over to her locker.

“ _What are you guys doing?_ ” Nik drops her towel and pulls out her bra and underwear.

Jo looks over and her eyes go wide. Nik realizes she’s staring at the handprint and fingerprint-shaped bruises on her hips and thighs. “ _What the fuck happened to you?_ ”

Nik frowns and grabs her discarded towel off the floor, wrapping it quickly around her body. “ _Nothing._ ”

Zäta smirks. “ _That boy from TC follow you down to Detroit?_ ”

Nik sighs and pulls off her shower cap, shaking out her hair. “ _You could say that._ ”

“ _I knew it_ ,” Zäta says, slapping Jo on her bare shoulder and holding out her hand. “ _You owe me 50 kronor._ ”

“ _You took bets on my sex life?_ ” Nik tries not to sound appalled.

Jo gets up and goes over to her locker, pulling down her jeans and digging a wad of money out of her pocket. She shoves a 50 kronor note into Zäta’s hand. “ _We were bored on the bus ride back._ ”

Nik shrugs off the towel, ignoring Jo’s and Zäta’s pointed looks, and resists examining the scrapes and bruises on her body as she steps into her underwear and pulls her bra down over her head. After she finishes tucking her breasts into place, Nik sifts through a collection of band tees before pulling out a Led Zeppelin one and throwing it on.

“ _You guys need new hobbies_ ,” Nik says, pulling on a pair of sweats she _thinks_ are clean.

“ _I disagree. I got 50 kronor out of it_ ,” Zäta says, sitting back down.

“ _I’ll see you guys later_ ,” Nik says, grabbing her wallet and keys.

“ _Say hi to Stuie for us,_ ” Zäta says.

Nik freezes by the exit, every muscle in her body going tense. “ _Uh, why would I do that?_ ”

“ _Because he’s been waiting outside the lockerroom for you for at least fifteen minutes_ ,” Zäta says, looking down at her cards. “ _He wanted to ask you about something._ ”

After saying goodbye to her two friends, Nik leaves to go search for Stuie, who is no longer waiting outside their lockerroom. She finds him near the players’ family lounge, leaning against the doorway, texting feverishly, thumbs flying.

“Hey, Z and Jo said you wanted to talk to me,” Nik says, pulling her car keys out of her pocket. Nik swings the lanyard in her hand and runs the nylon cord through her fingers.

Stuie looks up at her and smiles, putting his phone in his pocket. “Hey. Yeah, I wanted to see if you wanted get a quick bite to eat.”

Nik shrugs. “Sure, I guess. That’s all?”

“Yeah. Do I need more impressive reasons to go out to eat with you?” Stuie asks.

“Well... It’s just that saw I that Melissa and the kids were here. I’d have expected you to go home with them after the game,” Nik says, leaning against one of the lounge’s leather armchairs.

“They went back to the hotel. They’re leaving in the morning,” Stuie says quietly, dropping his eyes to the ground. 

Nik’s stomach sinks, and she wants to punch herself for the feeling. “Why didn’t you go back with them?”

He looks up at her. “I was gonna stop by and see them before I went back to my condo. It’s just... It’s hard, knowing they have to go back tomorrow. If I go see them now, I’ll have to say goodbye to them at some point.”

Nik inches closer to him and reaches out tentatively, touching the back of his wrist. “I know it must be hard. But it’s not like this is the last time you’ll see them.”

“Why do you want me to go so bad?” Stuie asks.

“You’d obviously be much happier if you were with them,” Nik says. “And I know it sucks having to say goodbye. I have to do the same with my family every summer, back in Sweden.”

“It’s different, though. You’ll understand once you have kids of your own,” Stuie sighs.

Nik pulls her hand back. “I don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.”

“You don’t want kids?” Stuie asks, sounding a little surprised. “You’re so great with our teammates’ kids, and the kids at the hospital.”

“I can give _those_ kids back at the end of the day,” Nik quips.

Stuie quirks a tiny smile. “Color me impressed. I just learned something new about Nikole Kronwall.”

Nik laughs a little. “Enjoy it while it lasts, buddy.”

“Oh, I will.” Stuie wraps his hand around her wrist and pulls her against his chest. He doesn’t move to kiss her though, or tug off her clothes. He just wraps her up in a big, warm hug, burying his face in her hair.

Nik closes her eyes and wraps her arms around his neck. It’s nice just to be held like this sometimes, she thinks.

“So,” she says, “are you staying or are you going?”

“You’re really gonna ask me this now?” Stuie grumps.

“Yes,” Nik says. “Tough shit. Deal with it.”

Stuie pulls back, sliding a hand to her waist. He studies her face, breaking into another, more genuine smile than before. “I’m gonna go see them. Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”

Nik rolls her eyes. “You’re such a loser.”

“Lucky for me that you like losers, huh?” Stuie glances around quickly before leaning in and giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you later, Nikki. Consider this an I.O.U.”

“See ya, Stu.” Nik slips away, letting her fingers tail across his bare arm.

Stuie smiles at her, leans in to steal one more kiss, and then he’s gone.

Nik follows a few minutes later, hops in her car, and drives home.

-

The team reels off a 7-1 record to start the season, before they go on a West Coast roadtrip to close out October. Stuie’s been going on and on for days in the lockerroom, because it means they’ll play San José and he’ll get to see his kids for the first time since they came out for the home opener.

Nik overhears him gushing to Lidas while she tends to her batch of hockey sticks outside the guys’ room, trimming them down and taking the blowtorch to them.

“Haven’t seen my little guys in a few weeks,” Stuie tells Lidas.

Nik glances up and sees him lean against the entrance, clad in just a tight black Underarmor shirt and white compression shorts. Nik directs her attention back to the task at hand, and holds a stick up, examining the tape job on the blade.

“It must be hard. I barely get to see Annika and the boys as it is, and we _live_ together,” Lidas says, laughing a little.

“Yeah, it’s been tough... Tougher than we expected,” Stuie says, sighing heavily. “We know what we signed up for, though. We’re thinking of bringing all three of the kids out here for a little while. But that could get kind of tricky.”

“We do what we have to, don’t we?” Lidas laughs again and pats Stuie on the shoulder. “It’ll work out. I’m sure.”

Stuie grunts in the affirmative. “I sure hope so. Some guys have told me it gets easier with time, but it just sucks being so far away from them all the time.”

Nik picks that moment to inconveniently let the blowtorch slip from her fingers and land on her foot, smashing her toes. She starts cursing in Swedish, horrible things that would make her poor mother blush, and both Lidas and Stuie come into the hallway to see what happened.

Nik glares at the offending blowtorch and leans back against the wall to rub her aching foot. “ _Ät skit och dö din jävla fitta!_ ”

“What happened?” Lidas asks, ever the captain, hands on his hips. 

Nik bends down and picks up the blowtorch, holding it up and wielding it like a weapon. “It slipped, but I’m fine.” She wriggles her toes, just to make sure they’re not broken. “It’s nothing.”

Stuie presses his fingers against the small of her back, rubbing lightly. “Didn’t sound like nothing,” he teases, nudging her in the side.

“Nothing seems broken,” she says, putting the torch aside.

“Good. We can’t afford to lose you,” Lidas says, heading back into the visitors’ lockerroom.

When he’s gone, Stuie slides in beside her and wraps an arm around her waist. He’s firm and solid next to her, and Nik lets herself rest her head on his shoulder for the briefest of moments.

“So... You’re thinking of bringing your family to Detroit?” Nik asks. She feels about as subtle as a bull in a china shop, but she really is curious now.

Stuie sighs. “Yeah. I miss them a lot, and Melissa thinks we might be able to pull Cierra out of school and homeschool her to finish out the school year. Next year she could go to public school.”

“You’ve really thought about this,” Nik says. 

She hates to admit it, even to herself, but she’s _jealous_. Jealous that Stuie’s fighting so desperately for his wife and kids, even though Nik knows if she was in his position she’d do the same. Jealous that she knows he wouldn’t do the same for her, if he were in danger of losing her, losing whatever this is between them.

Maybe she’s really just jealous that Melissa was there first and she’ll be there well after Nik is gone from Stuie’s life.

“Yeah,” he says, falling quiet. He sounds like there’s something on the tip of his tongue to say, waiting to get out, though. He swallows it down. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Nik asks.

“Just, you know... Being around.” Stuie lets go of her and pulls back.

“Around?” Nik hikes an eyebrow at him.

Stuie smiles softly at her, eyes crinkling, and Nik’s stomach drops to her knees. “I suck at the whole words thing.”

“I noticed.”

“I’m not gonna see you after the game,” he explains, almost apologetically, dropping a hand to her hip. “But...”

“But what?” Nik asks.

“Let’s hook up once we get to Vancouver,” Stuie says.

Nik ponders the possible double entendres before replying. “Okay. It’s a date, then,” she says.

Stuie grins at her, ruffles her hair, and goes back into the lockerroom.

-

At some point, they’re going to have to talk about this. About what they’re _doing_. It feels like they’ve been dancing around everything, all the potential landmines that could blow up in their faces. 

It doesn’t feel as urgent, as necessary as before, which is good. Babcock and the rest of the coaching staff, and even Lidas seem to think she and Stuie have adequately worked out whatever problems they were having in camp. 

The team is playing pretty well, at least until they stumbled a bit on the roadtrip and dropped two of three, and she and Stuie are perfectly in sync, like two pieces of the same puzzle. But Nik can’t help but wonder, and worry.

She thinks about what Stuie said outside the lockerroom in San José, about bringing his wife and kids to live with him. Surely that means he intends to end their—their _thing_? Their arrangement? Nik can’t quite call it a relationship, because Stuie already has one of those, but it’s not nothing either. It’s definitely more than nothing.

A bunch of them—Nik, Zäta, Jo, Fil, and Franzen to be exact—make plans to go out for drinks at an upscale nightclub while they’re in Tampa. 

“ _The place is discreet_ ,” Zäta says as Nik spreads out her black nylon garment bag on her hotel bed and sorts through her clothes for possible clubbing attire. Zäta leans against the wall and pulls out her phone to send a text.

Nik pulls a black dress out of her bag and looks over at Zäta. “ _Are you taking us to a stripclub again?_ ”

“ _No! It’s just, it’s not in Tampa. It’s in Ybor City,_ ” Zäta says, tucking her phone in the waistband of her black slacks. She eyeballs the dress and makes a disdainful face as she clucks her tongue like a judgmental chicken. “ _You’re not wearing that, are you?_ ”

“ _It’s the nicest thing I have with me on the trip_ ,” Nik says, holding the dress up. The dress is simple, black lace over tulle with long sleeves and a flared, A-line skirt. Nik thinks it’s pretty and figured she could wear it on the roadtrip.

“ _It’s cute, but we’re going clubbing. Not to a funeral_ ,” Zäta says, coming over and plucking the dress out of Nik’s hand. “ _Don’t you have anything sexy?_ ”

Nik laughs. “ _Do I_ look _like someone who would own anything sexy, Z?_ ”

Zäta points at her dramatically, backing toward the door. “ _I’m gonna go look through my things for something you can wear. I’ll be right back_.”

Nik puts the dress back in the bag and waits nervously for Zäta. Considering the style her teammate favors, it’ll be a miracle if Zäta manages to find anything Nik would actually wear.

A few minutes later, Zäta returns, arms loaded with garment bags. “ _Here, try these on._ ” She dumps the garment bags on the bed, next to Nik.

“ _Did you pack anything besides clothes?_ ” Nik asks, unzipping one of the bags.

“ _Stop complaining and go try some of these on. I’m only trying to help you, Nikki,_ ” Zäta complains.

Nik lifts up one of the dresses Zäta’s brought her, a black stretchy thing with sequins and feathers, and frowns. “ _I’m not going to wear this._ ”

“ _How about this one, then? It’s more your style. If what you have could be called ‘style,’_ ” Zäta says, picking up a black tank top that has some sort of flowery pattern embroidered into the bodice with black thread. Zäta picks up a pair of black faux leather skinny jeans. “ _Put it with these. You’ll knock ’em dead._ ”

“ _But I don’t want to knock anyone dead. Actually, I’d like to just stay in my room and watch video of the Lightning for tomorrow’s game._ ” Nik takes the tank top and puts it aside.

“ _Stuie’s coming with us because I said you’d be there_ ,” Zäta blurts out.

Nik stares at her, feeling as if Zäta has both slapped her across the face _and_ dumped a bucket of ice cold water over her head. “ _What?_ ”

“ _Stuie will be bummed if you’re not there_ ,” she says, shrugging and tossing her hair off her shoulder.

Nik reaches out, grabs onto Zäta’s arm. “ _Henrika..._ ”

Zäta shrugs Nik’s hands off and rolls her eyes. “ _Come on, Nikki. It’s not like I haven’t noticed._ ”

“ _Noticed what?_ ” Nik asks, picking at stray thread on one of the skirts Zäta brought her.

“ _The way Stuie looks at you when he thinks you aren’t paying attention? If he smoldered any harder, he’d probably set his brain on fire_ ,” Zäta says, snorting out a laugh. “ _That man has got it bad._ ”

“ _You haven’t told anyone, have you?_ ” Nik asks.

Zäta sighs and drapes an arm around Nik’s shoulders. “ _Look, I like to have my fun, but I wouldn’t gossip about this... At least, with anyone but Jo. I haven’t even told Emma my suspicions. As far as I can tell, no one else has noticed anything._ ”

“ _You and Jo gossip about us?_ ” Nik asks, frowning.

Zäta gapes at her. “ _Well, what else are we supposed to do?_ ”

Nik picks up the tank top and bypasses the pleather pants—pleather? seriously?—for a shimmery, silver skirt that’s made out of some cool metallic material. “ _How about these?_ ”

“ _Stuie will be all over you_ ,” Zäta declares, giving Nik finger guns of approval.

“ _Oh my god, why am I friends with you_.”

“ _Because you felt so guilty about almost ending my career when we were kids in Sweden that you decided you’d do anything to make it up to me?_ ” Zäta grins at Nik and bats her eyelashes.

Nik slides off the bed and gives her friend a shove. Zäta topples into the garment bags, giggling, and for a moment it almost does feel like they’re both teenagers again. Nik’s known both Zäta and Jo for years, and she’s made plenty of friends over the years, but Zäta is the closest Nik has to a best friend in the game.

Nik strips out of her t-shirt and jeans and pulls the tank top over her head. It’s a flattering cut, makes her look like she has more boobs than she actually does. When Nik glances down at her chest, she can see honest-to-god cleavage. Nik steps into the skirt, pulls it on and zips it up, flattening the silvery material against her thighs. Zäta’s a little bit shorter than Nik, so the skirt doesn’t quite come to her knees, but it fits well enough. When Nik twirls, the skirt flares out, her hair gets caught in her mouth, and she feels beautiful.

“ _Stuie is gonna cream his pants when he sees you_ ,” Zäta says from her perch on top of the garment bags.

“ _I hate you. You are an awful person._ ” Nik marches over to the bed, picks up a pillow, and bops Zäta in the face with it. Nik drops the pillow on the floor and sits next to Zäta on the bed. “ _Why are you being so... encouraging about all the crap with me and Stuie anyway?_ ”

Zäta sweeps her hair out of her face and regards Nik, her expression serious. “ _You’re one of my best friends, okay? Like, not just in hockey but in life. And I want you to be happy. If this thing you’ve got with Stuie is making you happy, go for it._ ”

“ _Even though he’s married? And has a family?_ ” Nik asks. She wonders if she _wants_ someone to verbally smack her down, tell her this is wrong and she shouldn’t be doing it. It’s kind of what she’s been expecting since this all happened, anyway.

“ _Nikki, we only get so many chances. If this makes you happy, you’ve got to grab it and hold on to it_ ,” Zäta says.

“ _I—I want to, but..._ ” Nik trails off and sighs deeply. She feels Zäta sigh next to her, their shoulders bumping.

“ _Guilt is a wasted emotion_ ,” Zäta says.

“ _You don’t even know what I was going to say_ ,” Nik protests.

Zäta whacks her on the arm. “ _Of course I do. I know_ you.”

When Nik and Zäta get down to the hotel lobby, Fil is waiting with Franzen, chatting conversationally with him about something. They both look up when Nik and Zäta walk in and their jaws drop.

“ _Wow, Nik, I’ve never seen you this dressed up_ ,” Fil says, giving her an appraising once-over.

“ _Did you actually put on makeup?_ ” Franzen asks, and Nik detects the hint of a good-natured laugh in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy it while you can, jokers.” Nik pulls on her navy roadtrip power blazer and tugs her hair out of the collar.

“ _Don’t worry, I am going to enjoy it_ ,” Franzen replies, smirking smugly at her.

“ _You’re a pig_.” Nik gives him a shove in the arm. “ _You’re lucky Cissi isn’t here or she’d kick your ass for flirting_.”

“ _Cissi would probably flirt too_ ,” Franzen teases, hipchecking her gently.

Nik laughs and shoves him back. Seeing the reactions on Franzen’s and Fil’s faces when she and Zäta stepped into the lobby is pretty gratifying, and Nik can’t help but wonder what Stuie’s reaction will be. 

Sure enough, the elevator doors chime, and Stuie walks in to the lobby with Jo. They’re talking about something and Stuie’s using his hands like he usually does when he’s breaking down something that happened in a game. Jo is listening intently, her head inclined toward his. Stuie’s eyes drift over to Nik and then he stops dead in his tracks.

“Nikki? Oh my goodness. You look great!” Jo comes over to embrace Nik, and then pulls back to inspect her outfit. “ _Z dressed you, I see_.”

“ _It’s not so bad,_ ” Nik says, laughing, grasping Jo’s hands in hers. “ _Z’s my fairy godmother, apparently._ ”

“ _If that makes you Cinderella, does this mean I’m one of the ugly stepsisters,_ ” Jo cracks.

“ _In a manner of speaking_.” Nik grins at her and lets her go. “ _I’m kind of surprised you decided to come with us. I didn’t think clubbing was your thing_.”

“ _Z bribed me_ ,” Jo explains, with a shrug.

Nik hazards a glance over at Stuie, who’s simply wearing a button down shirt and jeans. His eyes are dark, unreadable, and Nik wonders what he’s thinking now. “Hey, Stu. I feel kind of over-dressed now.”

“You look fine,” Stuie says, with a grunt, barely sparing her a glance. He turns to Zäta. “How are we getting to this place?”

“I booked us a stretch limo,” Zäta announces, clapping her hands with glee.

Stuie seems dark, moody, hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his jeans, not making eye contact with anyone. Nik wonders if something’s happened back home that’s put him in a bad state. Maybe he doesn’t really even want to be here. Zäta could have tricked him into going along. Nik wouldn’t put it past her. Zäta might be one of Nik’s oldest, closest friends in the world, but she can be kind of devious when she wants to be.

They wait around in the lobby for the limo, and Stuie hardly looks at Nik. He works his jaw and pointedly looks everywhere but at Nik, so much so that she starts wondering if she did something to piss him off.

Once the limo shows up and they’re all seated inside, Franzen busts into the minibar and starts doling out the smaller airliner-sized bottles of liquor and hoarding the normal-sized ones for himself.

“Here, Nik, you get this one.” He gives her a small plastic bottle of rum.

Nik holds it up. “Gee, thanks.”

Franzen grins wolfishly at her. “You’re very welcome.”

Fil groans. “Please stop flirting.”

Nik doesn’t miss the brief, annoyed look that Stuie gives Franzen before turning and looking out the tinted window of the limousine.

“I wasn’t even doing anything,” Franzen protests, thrusting a bottled water at Fil. “Just for that, you have to stay sober for the whole night.”

“You’re no fair.” Fil tries to reach around Franzen for the minibar, but he blocks him with his body and slaps his hands away. “I hate you, Mule.”

“No. You love me.” Franzen reaches into the minibar, retrieves a beer and shoves it into FIl’s hand. “Here, because I’m such a nice guy, I’ll take pity on you.” 

Nik gets a Diet Coke and a chilled glass from the minibar, and mixes herself a rum and Diet. “So, Z.”

“Yes?” Zäta looks at her and tilts her head, curious.

Nik puts the bottles aside and sips her concoction. “Did I tell you and Jo what happened with me and the guy from TC?”

She feels Stuie stiffen slightly in the seat next to her, and she grows emboldened. 

“I thought you said he dumped you,” Zäta says, leaning in. She knows by now that he didn’t exist—or, at least, not in the way Nik had led them to believe, at first—and now she looks very interested.

“He called me the other day,” Nik says, downing the rest of her drink. She fingers the empty glass and rests it against her bare knee. “He’s going to be in town. He wants to see me.”

Honestly, the actual guy from TC was just some random guy she made out with at a hipster bar the first day they got into town. They hadn’t even exchanged numbers. But what Stuie doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

Zäta hums, sounding impressed. “Is he cute?”

“Very cute,” Nik says. At least she thinks he was. The hipster bar was kind of dark.

“Ooh, what’s his name?” Jo asks.

Nik hadn’t bothered to get his name either. She’d probably never see him again. He was just some guy. 

“Brody,” she says, sighing dreamily. 

“Brody’s a dumb name,” Stuie says.

“Well, he didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter,” Nik points out.

Stuie just _hmphs_ and leans across Nik’s lap to grab a beer from the minibar. “My point stands.”

Zäta glances at the two of them over her bottle of beer, her dark eyes flashing with mischief. “You should’ve invited Brody out with us, Nik,” she says, sighing sadly. “I would’ve liked to have met him.”

“Stuie could have vetted him for you,” Franzen laughs.

“No, I definitely would not have vetted this Brody asshole for Nik because I’m not her dad,” Stuie snarks.

“Thank goodness for that,” Nik says.

Stuie turns his full attention to his beer and the never ending struggle to peel off the brewery label. “Yeah. I don’t think I could stand being related to you.”

“No?” Nik asks. She’s not really sure where this is going anymore. What had started off as a—mostly—innocent attempt to make Stuie jealous feels like it’s become something else.

Stuie glances at her. “You really get under my skin sometimes. You’re a menace.”

“You’re not so great yourself,” Nik retorts.

“My wife would disagree,” Stuie says.

Nik is fairly sure Stuie just one-upped her in whatever game she was trying to play with him. Part of her is offended that he beat her at her own machinations, and the other part is grudgingly impressed.

“Hold up. Party foul,” Zäta says, holding up her hands. “There’ll be no more mention of wives, girlfriends, boyfriends, or random booty calls in this limo.”

“Thank you, Jesus,” Fil mutters under his breath.

“Who died and made you queen,” Franzen asks.

“Lidas, technically. He said I was in charge of you lot,” Zäta says, smirking at him. “I’m supposed to keep you out of trouble.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” Franzen says.

They arrive at the nightclub a little while later, and somehow they lose Fil the moment they step into the place. Then, Franzen spots an attractive blonde in a skimpy turquoise dress gyrating next to a potted fern and he makes his way toward her, bobbing his head in time to the pulsing electroclash music.

Zäta latches onto Nik’s arm before she can wander away too, and leans in so that Nik can hear. “ _I think you should have a bit of fun._ ”

“ _Well, that’s the plan,_ ” Nik says.

“ _No, I mean with Stuie,_ ” Zäta says, nudging Nik toward the dance floor.

“ _What? How?_ ” Nik asks, turning back toward her.

“ _You’ll figure it out. Let the music take you, Nikki!_ ” Zäta gives her a shove onto the dance floor and retreats, leaving Nik to fend for herself.

Nik isn’t really sure what she’s doing but she finds a space for herself on the floor, amidst the crush of bodies, and dances by herself. Men—and even some women, too—come by, eye her, flirt with her, and Nik flirts back. It feels kind of freeing not to worry what other people are thinking about her. 

No one’s recognized her yet. These people look at her and don’t see a **Female Hockey Player** in blinking neon lights. They don’t see **The Other Woman**.

Nik’s migrated to a corner of the dance floor when someone presses up behind her. She expects them to just slide past her. When they don’t, she gets annoyed and goes to tell them off, but soft, cool fingertips brush her cheek.

“Hey. I’ve been looking for you for at least twenty minutes,” Stuie murmurs into her ear.

“Sorry,” Nik says, “didn’t mean to make you worry, or whatever.”

“It’s fine.” Stuie slips his hands to her hips. He’s pressing tightly against her now, and she feels his stubble against her cheek, the side of her neck, her bare shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” Nik asks.

“Dancing with you, what do you think?” 

Stuie pulls her hips back against him, and she feels the hard outline of his cock against her ass as he grinds against her. 

Jesus, fuck. They’re doing this. They’re honestly doing this. On a dance floor in a mostly public setting. Sure, no one’s noticed them, but...

“Wish I could fuck you right here,” Stuie says, low in her ear.

“ _Herrejävlar._ ” Nik clenches a hand over Stuie’s on her waist and closes her eyes.

“Wish I could bend you over the bar and fuck you in front of all these people,” Stuie continues, flexing his fingers under hers. “Let them get an eyeful.”

“You’re incorrigible, you know that?” Nik says, drawing in a shuddery breath.

She feels Stuie shrug behind her. “What can I say?” 

Stuie reaches up and pushes her hair out of the way so that he can kiss her on the back of the neck. He slides his other hand over her middle, pulling her back against him when she strays a bit too much for his liking.

Nik lets her head roll back, against his shoulder, and she closes her eyes. This feels good. She can even pretend that they belong together, here, in this club. That Stuie doesn’t have a wife waiting for him back in San José.

“Maybe I’d just take you on the dance floor,” Stuie says, and he really sounds like he’s considering it.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I approve,” Nik says, laughing breathlessly, trying to keep it light. 

Stuie doesn’t reply. Instead, he slips a hand under her skirt before Nik can grab for it. She opens her mouth to protest but he _shhh_ s her gently, as she feels his fingertips wandering, exploring.

“No one’s looking,” he murmurs.

“They could be, though,” she protests, weakly.

Stuie slides a hand between her thighs and makes a soft, startled noise in his throat when he realizes she isn’t wearing any underwear. The arm around her waist tightens, and Nik tightens her grip on it in response.

Stuie strokes the inside of her thigh before pushing a couple fingers into her cunt, without much pretense. He seems pleased to find that she’s already wet for him. 

Nik is very, very thankful they’re somewhat hidden from view, with a table and some lounge chairs in the way. Regardless of Stuie’s threats—enticements?—Nik doesn’t want to be arrested.

“Don’t be too obvious,” Stuie hisses in her ear. “Just move with me.”

Nik can’t say anything, all she can do is nod and she moves back against Stuie. He fucks her with long, tantalizingly slow strokes, burying his fingers in her as deeply as they can go and then withdrawing before thrusting back into her again. The drape of her skirt hides his hand well enough. It probably does look like they’re just dancing or something.

“Stuie,” Nik pleads. “I need a little more. _Ge mig lite mer_.”

“Not here. Later,” he promises, stilling his fingers to flick his thumb over her clit. “When we get back to the hotel. I’ll fuck you on every surface of your hotel room, if you want.”

“ _Ja, tack._ ”

Stuie shudders against her and starts thrusting his fingers with a bit more urgency at that. Nik clutches at his arm, presses back against his fingers as he fucks her and rubs his thumb in circles over her clit. 

The orgasm comes quickly, almost unexpectedly, a red-hot liquid burst that coalesces in her core and leaves her legs quivering, weak. Stuie keeps his arm around her, grinding his hips against her and burying his face in her hair.

Nik finally lets go of him and leans back against him, draws in a deep, shuddering breath. She turns in his arms and kisses him, before stepping back to get a good look at him. Stuie is still hard, his cock straining against his pants, and Nik runs a hand over it before unzipping his fly and slipping her hand in.

“Nikki, what are you—” he starts, but she seals her lips against his and cuts him off.

Nik wraps a hand around his cock and starts stroking him, shielding him from view with her body. Stuie rests a hand on her hip and closes his eyes. Nik pauses to spit into her palm and tightens her grip around him, heartbeat quickening just a bit when he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and a flush rises from the collar of his shirt, up to his cheeks.

Nik kisses him again, biting down gently, licking at the indentations from her teeth on his bottom lip when she pulls back. Stuie pulls her in for another, deeper kiss, sucking her tongue into his mouth. He fucks his cock into the tight ring of her hand, the slide of his skin damp and warm against her palm.

Stuie comes quickly, muffled against her shoulder, his mouth buried in her hair. His fingers open and close on her back, clutching at her, while she wrings the last of it out of him. When he’s finished, Nik grabs some paper napkins off the table that had been shielding them from view and helps him clean himself up.

After they’re done, Stuie’s redressed, and Nik tosses away the napkins, Stuie kisses her again and wraps a hand around hers. When she looks at him, searches his face, his eyes, they’re inscrutable, murky. The spin lights over the dance floor catch the shine on his wet lips and the flush that still sits high on his cheeks. Stuie breaks into a smile and Nik laughs at him.

“What?” she asks, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.

“Nothing,” he says, still smiling at her.

“All right then,” Nik says, amused.

Stuie reaches out and cups a hand against the back of her neck, but doesn’t move to kiss her, or anything, really. He just grins at her like she’s the best thing he’s ever seen. It makes her feel funny, but not like before when she’d get that nervous twist in her stomach anytime she caught him looking at her. It’s nice, a good kind of funny.

“Exactly,” he says.

-

After they get back to the hotel and split up for the rest of the night, Zäta grabs Nik by the hand and whisks her down the hall to her room. They find Pavel sitting on one of the beds, messing around with his iPhone.

“Pav, get out of here. I need to gossip with Nik,” Zäta says.

“I wait all night, you don’t call, you don’t write,” Pavel mock-complains at her. “I worry, you know.”

“You’re a dork,” Zäta says, shutting the door behind her. 

“I am good friend, best you ever have. I care,” he says.

“Why are you even here? Isn’t there some pond you should be fishing at?” Zäta plops down on her bed and kicks off her heels.

“No fish, too cold,” Pavel says.

“How’d you even get in here without a key?” Nik sits at the end of Zäta’s bed and slips off her shoes to massage her feet.

Pavel smiles. “Am sneaky. Have skills.”

“Well, Nik and I need to have a girl talk, so scram,” Zäta says, waving her hands at him.

Pavel sighs dramatically, but he gets up anyway and heads to the door. “You are terrible friend. I wait all night and you shoo me away. Like I’m pet dog.” Pavel slips out the door and shuts it gently behind him.

Zäta nudges Nik in the back with her bare foot. “ _So, what did you and Stuie get up to without the rest of us?_ ”

Nik turns and glares at her. “ _Nothing,_ ” Nik insists.

“ _I don’t believe you. You saw how jealous and worked up he got when Mule started flirting with you! I think he’d have jumped you right there in the limo if the rest of us hadn’t been around,_ ” Zäta says.

“ _He wasn’t jealous_.” 

Zäta laughs. “ _Oh, come on. Don’t be dumb, Nikki. He was definitely jealous._ ”

Nik sighs and lays back next to Zäta, resting her hands on her stomach. “ _I don’t know. I guess maybe he was._ ”

“ _He’s in love with you_ ,” Zäta declares, nodding as if this confirms it.

NIk scrambles back up to stare at her. “ _He is not, Z._ ”

“ _Of course he is. I think he has been for a while now_ ,” she says.

“ _He’s married. He has a wife and kids. He’s not in love with me_.”

Zäta laughs. “ _Do you really think loving one person makes somebody incapable of falling in love with anyone else?_ ”

“ _Well... I don’t know. But I_ do _know that he’s not in love with me_ ,” Nik says.

“ _Why is the possibility so scary to you? Is it because you’re afraid you don’t feel the same? Or is it you’re afraid that you do?_ ” Zäta asks.

Nik punches her in the arm. “ _No! I don’t know._ ” She sighs and scrubs her hands in her hair. “ _We just fuck around, nothing more than that. He goes home to Melissa when he’s done with me._ ”

“ _In case you hadn’t noticed, Melissa isn’t here,_ ” Zäta says.

“ _Of course I’ve noticed. But I’m sure if she_ could _be here, with him, she would be._ ”

“ _You don’t know that_.”

“ _He told me he wanted to bring his family out here, to Detroit, to stay with him. He’s only with me because... I don’t know. He’s bored and acting out, maybe. Maybe he just misses her so he’s using me until he sees her again_ ,” Nik suggests. 

Zäta sighs and shakes her head. “ _You’re so deep in denial that you can’t even see reality anymore. How is the weather in your little fantasy world, Nikki?_ ”

“ _You’re being a jerk. You’re not helping_ ,” Nik grumbles.

“ _Look, I just think it’s sad you’re so afraid you might feel something, that he might feel it too, that you’re denying it away._ ”

“ _It’s impossible, Henrika. Even if I did feel something, which I don’t, I’m not saying or even suggesting I do, it’s pointless. He won’t leave Melissa for me. He_ shouldn’t _leave her for me. It’s just..._ ” Nik sighs again.

“ _If you both feel the same way, it isn’t wrong,_ ” Zäta says.

Nik shakes her head. “ _But I don’t want to hurt anyone_.”

“ _Someone will get hurt, no matter what. Whether it’s Melissa, Stuie, you, it’s unavoidable._ ”

Nik flops back down and stares up at the ceiling. “ _I just... It’s not as easy as you’re making it out to be. There’s no happy ending here. I just have to accept that it’ll be me, I’ll be the one who gets hurt. That’s just how it is._ ”

Zäta curls in against Nik’s side and puts her head on her shoulder. “ _I’m sure it’ll work out for the best, whatever happens_ ,” she says, hooking her hand in the crook of Nik’s elbow.

Nik reaches out, pats Zäta’s hand. “ _I hope so. I sure hope so._ ”

Nik just wishes she knew what she was hoping for.

-

A few weeks later, Nik walks into the Joe for morning skate, listening to her iPod and half-paying attention to where she’s going, when she bumps into somebody hurrying for the players’ lot. 

“Nik, hi!”

Nik finds herself face-to-face with Melissa, Stuie’s wife.

“Melissa? Hi,” she says, tugging out her earbuds and pocketing her iPod. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think...”

“Brad didn’t tell you? Me, Cierra, and the boys are moving in with him for the rest of the season,” Melissa explains, smiling brightly at Nik and tucking a strand of platinum blond hair behind a diamond-studded ear. Melissa looks glamorous, as usual, and Nik can’t help the swell of jealousy that blooms in her chest, alongside the guilt.

“Oh, he hadn’t mentioned anything,” Nik says, offering Melissa an apologetic smile as she fiddles with the buttons on the cuff of her winter coat. “He said that you were talking about maybe coming out here, but he didn’t say it was for sure happening.”

“Yeah, we just decided over the weekend to give it a shot. So here I am,” Melissa says, laughing. “We’re gonna go look at some houses together tomorrow, before the game.”

“Wow,” Nik says, for lack of anything else to say. 

Melissa pats her on the shoulder as she brushes past her, and pushes through the heavy metal doors.

Nik glances after her briefly, the shock of her white-blond hair disappearing behind the closing doors, before heading for the men’s lockerroom.

Stuie is sitting in his recliner, in front of his locker, eyes closed, a smile on his face. He looks content, peaceful. 

“Hey.” Nik stays in the doorway.

Stuie opens his eyes, sees that it’s Nik, and looks immediately stricken. “Hi. Nik,” he says, getting up, but Nik shakes her head.

“I saw Melissa. She said you’re moving her and the kids out here. That’s great,” she says, forcing a smile onto her face. “That’ll be good for you. To have them here.”

The look that passes over Stuie’s face makes her chest ache. He wavers between uncertainty, guilt, relief and a flash of desire; whether it’s for Nik or Melissa, she isn’t sure.

“Nik, I was going to tell you tonight. I needed some time—”

“You don’t have to tell me anything. Your family comes first,” Nik says. “I always knew that.”

Stuie does get up and comes over to her, sliding his hand over hers before she can pull away, before she can leave. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. They’re family. Of course they should be here with you,” Nik says, letting him keep hold of her hand. Maybe now they’ll finally be able to talk about this. Get everything into the open so she can be done with it all. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Don’t I?” he asks.

Nik shakes her head. She’s starting to feel manic, torn between laughing and yelling and maybe even crying, just a little bit. She’d hate Stuie for making her feel all these emotions at once, like a storm ripping through her, if she didn’t care for him as much as she does.

“What do you mean?” Nik asks.

“You’re important to me,” he says, quietly, and Nik fills in _but not as important as my wife and kids_ for him. “Sometimes I feel really, really guilty about all of this. About wanting you as badly as I do. And sometimes it just feels... right. Feels good. Like it should just be you and me.”

“Sometimes I feel a little bad too,” Nik allows.

“But not all the time,” Stuie says.

“No. I could never feel bad about it, not completely,” she says.

Stuie squeezes his hand around hers. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Neither do I,” Nik says.

“I guess I’m in good company then,” he says, pulling her against his chest. He rests his cheek against the top of her hair. “We’ll figure it out.”

Nik gets an arm around him and closes her eyes. “Maybe.”

-

The experiment with Melissa and the kids, moving the entire family out to Detroit, doesn’t go smoothly at all. The kids are all homesick, especially Cierra, who misses her biological father and her friends and cries a lot, according to Stuie. Even Melissa seems a bit overwhelmed by the move, as if she hadn’t considered reuniting their family would come at a price.

Nik supposes she shouldn’t be all that surprised when Stuie comes to the Joe moody and dark one morning.

“What’s wrong?” Nik asks, as they sit on the bench together and look on as Pavel does some impressive, graceful figure skating-like moves with his stick and a puck. Rather than have a formal practice, Babcock has set up an informal free skate because of the team’s grueling schedule as of late.

“Nothing,” Stuie grunts.

Nik tries again. “You so sure about that?”

“Look, I said it was nothing. Just let it go,” he snaps.

“All right, all right. No need to bite my head off about it,” Nik says, getting up and shoving past him. She savors the crunch of fresh ice under her skate blades, as Pavel skates by and hits her in the shin with an errant puck.

She hears scraping of ice behind her and she looks over; Stuie’s ambled over the boards, stick in hands, still looking moody and perturbed.

“I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he says, skating up behind her, knocking into her gently with his shoulder. “It hasn’t been easy at home.”

“So I hear,” Nik says, shifting away, corralling a puck with the blade of her stick.

“Melissa is having a hard time with the kids,” Stuie says. He sounds short of breath, panicky, as if he might start crying. “Cierra wants to go home.”

“They’ve only been here for a few weeks,” Nik says. She wishes she could reach out to him right now, comfort him and soothe away the stress and worry.

“Cierra hates it here.” Stuie sounds so mournful, so _heartbroken_ that Nik’s own heart aches with sympathy for him. “She’s a moody teenager. Not only that, she’s a moody teenager who has no friends or other family here.”

“I don’t mean to sound callous, but has she _tried_ making new friends here?” Nik asks.

“It’s not so easy for her. Melissa’s kind of given up. She’s already making plans to take Cierra and the boys back to Los Gatos. _Just for a visit_. So Cee can see Melissa’s ex and hang out with her friends.” Stuie sighs heavily.

“I’m so sorry, Stuie,” Nik says, and she is, she genuinely is. Nik had wanted this to work out for Stuie so badly. They had barely seen each other since Melissa and the kids moved into Stuie’s condo and they started looking for houses, but Stuie had seemed so happy that Nik let herself just be happy _for_ him.

“It’s... It is what it is,” he says, scraping his skate blades in the ice, scoring parallel lines deeply into it. “It just sucks.”

Nik touches his arm. “If there’s anything I can do, just name it.”

Stuie looks down at her, his light blue eyes unusually heavy and serious. “There’s nothing you can really do, but I appreciate it. Thank you.” He leans in and pulls her into a brief hug.

When they separate, Nik brushes a hand over his practice jersey, tugging it down and straightening out the wrinkles on his Red Wings crest. “Maybe, with a little more time, they’ll change their minds.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen, but it’s a nice thought,” Stuie grumbles, letting Nik continue to fuss over him before skating back. “I know we haven’t seen much of each other since, since my family’s been here. But I’m... Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Nik asks.

“I’ll make it up to you one of these days,” Stuie promises, squeezing her gloved hand one last time before he skates off.

-

The team’s PR group schedules a ritzy, black tie charity dinner during one of the few off-days they have in November that’s not a travel day. Everyone had been looking forward to a day off, but no one really minds that much when it’s for a good cause. And they do get to spend a little more time with their families.

The lower bowl of the Joe Louis Arena, usually covered by a slick sheet of ice for their games, has been completely made over. It looks like a fancy ballroom, the kind you find at the ritziest hotels. The boards are draped with deep red, velvet curtains embroidered in gold-thread Red Wing logos, and the place has been lit in a low, romantic glow. There’s even a dance floor at center ice, where a DJ is currently setting up shop.

Some of the players mill about with wives and girlfriends, inspect charity items in gleaming glass cases and chat casually about how their season’s gone.

The table Nik’s been assigned to—and her nonexistent “plus one,” according to the invitation sent to her by the team’s PR—is covered in a heavy linen tablecloth and adorned with an ice sculpture of a hockey player at the table’s center, a wooden stick clutched in its frozen hands. 

Stuie and Melissa seem to have been assigned to the same table, too. Melissa looks stunning as usual, her platinum hair twisted up and held in place with diamond hair combs. She has on a charcoal-gray strapless evening gown cut to accentuate her cleavage, of which there is plenty. Nik looks at her own dress; it’s a simple, high-waisted canary yellow silk dress that she’d fallen in love with at the department store. Compared to Melissa, however, she feels inadequate and underdressed.

Stuie doesn’t look so bad himself, dressed in a dark gray suit and a white dress shirt open at the collar. His usually unkempt brown hair is swept away from his face, hairsprayed into submission. He looks suave and handsome, the perfect complement to Melissa’s sleek, cool beauty.

Nik slides into an empty seat at the table and puts her purse and phone down. “Hi.”

“Nik, you look great! Where’s your date?” Melissa gets up to greet Nik, giving her a quick hug.

Nik laughs and looks down at the intricately folded linen napkin next to her salad plate, hoping she doesn’t sound _too_ awkward. “I, uh, decided to go solo for this one.”

“Henrika was telling me you met a guy in Traverse City. Bailey?” Melissa smiles and glances at Stuie, touching his arm. “Or was it Brody?”

“Brody,” Stuie offers, giving Melissa a thin, tightlipped smile.

Nik can sense a fine chill settle between them, and Melissa pulls her hand back with a tiny sigh. Nik supposes he didn’t want to go to this event, but maybe Melissa had insisted. He had probably wanted to spend more time with the kids. 

“Right, Brody. He’s back in Traverse City. It was nothing serious,” Nik lies, forcing an awkward laugh. “I’m officially on the market.”

“That’s a shame. I’d have thought you’d have guys busting down your door to take you out,” Melissa says, _tsk_ ing like Nik’s mom usually does over her perpetual singleness.

“Oh, my life isn’t really that glamorous,” Nik says, flushing modestly. “I only wish it was.”

In spite of herself, Nik finds that she enjoys talking to Melissa. If Melissa weren’t Stuie’s wife, Nik thinks she’d be someone she could be friends with. They don’t have that much in common, besides Stuie, but Melissa is sunny and radiant and way too easy to talk to, and Nik thinks she can see why Stuie fell in love with her.

This conversation with Melissa also leaves Nik wondering why Stuie started sleeping with _her_ in the first place. Melissa is so charming and beautiful, Nik is certain she pales in comparison.

“You’re a role model to so many young girls,” Melissa says, sipping from a wineglass. “Cierra told me girls in her grade want to grow up to be like you. They want to play in the NHL.”

Nik can feel the flush rise in her cheeks, and she ducks her head modestly. It pleases her, though, to hear it. “I think Z would be a much better role model to emulate than me.”

“Z is damn good, but you’re a big, clean open-ice hitter,” Stuie pipes up, finally. He runs his fingertip along the rim of his wineglass. He’s still not really looking at Nik, though, eyes focused just beyond her shoulder. “Kids like that.”

Nik glances up at both of them and offers them a smile. “I suppose that might be true.”

“Don’t pretend to be so modest,” Stuie says. “Modesty’s a lie.”

“What? What’s wrong with being modest?” Nik asks.

“Why let people think you’re something you’re not? Pretending you’re not good at things you’re good at is lying. Might as well own it,” Stuie says. He brings the wineglass to his lips and drains it.

Melissa fluffs her blond hair and adjusts one of the diamond-encrusted hair combs. “It can’t hurt to be modest, hon. No one likes someone who’s all full of themselves,” she admonishes, laughing. Melissa slips her hand back in the bend of Stuie’s elbow and he reaches down, patting the back of her hand.

“There’s a difference between being a showboating jerk about it and just owning who you are,” Stuie says, sounding thoughtful, as if this is something he’s tossed about in his head from time to time. He looks back at Nik, his hand still resting lightly over Melissa’s. “You’re amazing. You shouldn’t pretend that you’re not amazing.” 

“Thanks for the pep talk, coach,” Nik cracks, trying to keep things light.

“Anytime.” Stuie picks up his empty glass and turns his attention back to Melissa. “I’m gonna get another drink. Anyone want anything?”

“I’m good, sweetie,” Melissa says, smiling prettily at him.

Nik smothers the flare of jealousy in her chest. She actually _likes_ Melissa and, anyway, she has no business feeling jealous of Stuie’s wife. “I’m just going to go get my own. Thanks, though.” Nik picks up her glass and purse and heads off to the wet bar.

She hears footsteps behind her and when she turns, Stuie is trailing her, holding the stem of his empty glass between his fingers.

“I asked them for different seating arrangements,” he mumbles when he catches up with her. “They wanted the defensemen to sit together for some reason. I hope it hasn’t been too awkward.”

“No, it’s been fine,” Nik says, and it honestly has been. “Melissa is funny and charming... I can see why you love her.”

Stuie starts a little at that, for some reason, stopping dead in his tracks for just a split second before restarting. “I, I... Yeah. Melissa is great,” he stammers.

“What?” Nik asks, opening her purse and pulling out some dollar bills as a tip for the bartender.

“Nothing,” Stuie says quickly, too quickly. 

“You’re a lucky man.” Nik tries not to sound jealous, and she thinks she mostly succeeds.

Stuie doesn’t respond to that. Instead he pulls out his wallet and fishes out some dollar bills, before placing his order with the bartender. When he’s done, he turns his attention back to Nik as he rests an elbow on the bar.

“Are you okay?”

Nik can feel her eyes widen in shock. Why wouldn’t she be okay? “I’m fine. Why?”

“I think you know why,” Stuie says.

Ah, he thinks she’s uncomfortable being around Melissa. Nik nods slowly, as realization dawns. “I mean... It’s not as if I have any business being jealous of your wife.”

“Why wouldn’t you?” Stuie sighs. “I’m basically parading her right under your nose.”

“Because I have no claim on you? And she _does_?” Nik suggests. She really doesn’t understand why Stuie can’t see this.

Stuie’s face settles into an expression of blank inscrutability. “You don’t?”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not the one who’s wearing your ring,” Nik says, flashing her bare fingers at him. 

“And I’m not the one who’s being silly here,” Stuie says, accepting his drink. He stuffs a few dollars into the crystal fishbowl sitting on the bar top and steps back. “I happen to think you look beautiful tonight.” Stuie turns and heads back to their table with his drink.

Nik sighs and stays there, waving off the bartender and telling him she needs some time to think about what she wants. 

After she’s gotten her drink and had some time to herself, she heads back to the table. Jo has arrived, on the arm of her brother Jimmie. She brightens when she sees Nik and jumps up to greet her with a hug.

“Nik, I didn’t know you were already here! Guys, this is my brother, Jimmie,” Jo explains, introducing her older brother to the table. “Jimmie came in from Skellefteå just for this charity event.”

Nik and Jimmie know each other from the Swedish national hockey team; they greet each other in Swedish with handshakes and hugs. When Jimmie’s hand lingers a little longer than normal on Nik’s back, she doesn’t say anything. He’s handsome and, as far as Nik can tell, single. Maybe they’ll really hit it off here, off the ice, and Nik can put Stuie out of her mind.

Jimmie and Jo look like they could have been twins; both of them are tall, dark-haired, and strikingly attractive. They both look like they stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine, with Jimmie impeccably dressed in what surely is an expensive suit and Jo in a vibrant, red satin evening gown.

“How long was your flight?” Melissa asks Jimmie, greeting him with a warm smile.

“Far too long,” Jimmie says, pulling up a seat next to Jo. “But Jo’s my baby sister. I couldn’t turn her down.” He grins at her and tousles her hair.

Jo grimaces and pushes her dark wavy hair out of her face. “Ha, very cute.” She looks at Nik. “Didn’t you bring a guest too?”

Nik frowns. “Is everyone going to ask me that question tonight?”

“I thought you would’ve brought someone.” Jo eyeballs her brother, thoughtfully. “Why don’t you and Jimmie go for a dance?”

Nik looks at him, and then Jo. “What? Really?”

Jimmie smiles at her, holding up his hands, palms out. “I don’t bite. I’m well behaved, or so I’m told.”

Nik doesn’t dare look in Stuie’s direction, but she can practically feel his eyes burning into the back of her neck. She smiles at Jimmie and offers him her hand. “That sounds like a great idea. Why not?”

Jimmie takes her by the hand and sweeps her onto the dance floor, her light yellow skirts swirling, and then she finally hazards a glance at Stuie. He’s watching the two of them over his wineglass, his face blank, Melissa’s hand still tucked into the crook of his elbow.

Nik turns and takes Jimmie’s hand, slipping it to her waist, before wrapping her arms around his neck. “ _I didn’t know you were coming. Jo didn’t tell anyone_ ,” she tells him.

Jimmie shrugs guilelessly and slips his hands to her waist. “ _Jo is good at keeping secrets._ ” He smiles again, friendly and disarming.

“ _How’s the team in Skellefteå doing?_ ” Nik asks, moving seamlessly with Jimmie as he guides her on the dance floor.

“ _We’re doing all right_ ,” he says, shrugging again. “ _Chasing after Jönköping, Djurgårdens, and Linköpings. But we’re hanging in there._ ”

“ _That’s good to hear. How long will you be in the States?_ ”

“ _Just a few days, then I have to go back._ ” Jimmie glances back at their table, at Jo, who’s watching them sneakily from behind a dinner menu. “Would _you like to do something while I’m here? I know you’re probably quite busy, but..._ ”

Nik smiles at him. “ _I’d like that,_ ” she says.

Jimmie smiles back. “ _Excellent. I know you don’t know me that well, just from hockey. So I thought it might be kind of awkward, but Jo said to go for it anyway,_ ” he says, laughing a little.

“ _So, your sister set us up, huh?_ ” Nik should have figured Jo was behind this. She can’t help but laugh, anyway.

Jimmie grins at her. “ _That she did._ ”

The song finally ends and Jimmie ushers Nik back to their table, pulling out her seat for her.

“Quite the gentleman,” Nik jokes.

“He’s a show off,” Jo says, smirking, looking pleased with herself.

Stuie turns to Melissa and slips a hand to her back, rubbing gently. “You up for a spin on the dance floor, babe?”

“Sure, I guess,” Melissa says. “But I thought you hated to dance.”

“Are you kidding? I love to dance, as long as it’s with you,” Stuie coos at her in an overly cute voice, stroking her arm.

Melissa frowns at him and touches the back of her hand to his forehead “Are you running a fever or something?”

Stuie reaches up and moves her hand down, wrapping it in both of his. “I’m great, never been better.” He rubs his thumb over her hand.

Melissa rolls her eyes. “All right, Romeo. You wanna dance? Let’s dance.” Melissa gets up, tugs the hair combs out of her hair and shakes it out, tossing it over her shoulders.

Stuie gets up after her, slides his hand to the small of her back, and guides her out onto the dance floor.

“ _He’s been acting weird all night,_ ” Jo says, picking up her water glass and sighing, as if she has no idea why.

“ _He’s always weird,_ ” Nik mutters.

“ _That’s Brad Stuart, yeah?_ ” Jimmie asks.

“ _The one and only._ ” Nik rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her wine.

Stuie pulls Melissa snugly against his chest and slides a hand to her backside, almost possessively. Melissa laughs, says something to him that Nik can’t quite make out, and rests her cheek on his shoulder.

They look perfect together, like they were made to be together. The big, handsome hockey player and the stunningly attractive blond. Melissa was probably a cheerleader too, in her high school days, Nik guesses. She has the look down, at least. 

Nik finishes off her wine and glances at Jimmie and Jo. “ _You guys need anything? Drinks? Appetizers?_ ”

“ _I’m good. Jimmie, why don’t you go with her?_ ” Jo smiles at both of them sweetly. Nik doesn’t trust it.

“ _I think I can manage on my own, Johanna,_ ” Nik says, shooting her a glare.

“ _Ooh, Johanna. Bringing out the big guns._ ” Jimmie snorts.

Nik continues to watch Melissa and Stuie sway together on the dance floor, their bodies pressed so tightly together that they’re practically one. Stuie strokes a hand in Melissa’s long blond hair, and the diamonds in his Stanley Cup ring glint under the spinning lights.

It’s all very romantic and sweet. And Nik wishes it could be her up there, dancing with Stuie.

She turns to Jimmie. “ _So, how about we go out this Sunday?_ ” she suggests.

Jimmie smiles and nods. “ _Sounds great!_ ” 

“ _Awesome. Here, I’ll give you my number._ ” She takes Jimmie’s phone and plugs her number in, before passing him her phone to do the same.

“ _I’ll give you a call tomorrow. Any plans in mind?_ ” he asks, slipping his phone in the inner pocket of his suit coat.

“ _Why don’t we go down to Campus Martius and skate? It’s always so nice and lovely this time of year,_ ” Nik says.

“ _All right. It’s a date then._ ” Jimmie leans back and drapes his arm behind her shoulders.

Nik lets herself lean into his arm, just a bit. He smells nice, like cool, crisp aftershave and a hint of musky cologne. It’s different from the tropical stuff Stuie normally wears. Nik thinks she could get used to it. Thinks she could get used to Jimmie.

Stuie and Melissa finish their dance and come back to the table, holding hands. Melissa looks content, but Stuie just looks stiff and awkward. He eyes Nik and Jimmie, and Nik sees him flick his eyes to Jimmie’s arm around Nik’s shoulders.

Stuie helps Melissa back into her seat and stands behind it, sliding his hands over her shoulders, rubbing. “Hey, Nik, can we talk in the lobby? I wanted to go over some things with you.”

Nik furrows her brow. “Things?”

“For the game tomorrow. Defensive assignments, players’ tendencies, and stuff,” he says, his shaded blue eyes betraying nothing.

“Okay, I guess... I’ll be right back,” she says to Jimmie, before getting up and following Stuie out to the lobby.

Once they’re out in the lobby, Stuie starts pacing and flips the coattails of his suit coat out of the way, shoving his hands deeply into his pockets.

“What is it? Stop pacing, you’re giving me a headache,” Nik says.

Stuie does as she asks, and lances her with a hard, unfamiliar look. “Are you serious about going on a date with Jo’s brother?” he asks, his tone soft, surprisingly calm.

“I guess so. Why?” Nik asks.

Stuie lowers his voice. “It’s not just to make me jealous?”

Nik shrugs and clasps her hands in her lap. “No, not really. It seemed like it could be fun. Jimmie seems nice. I mean, do you expect me to just sit in my condo and pine for you while you’re out with Melissa?”

Stuie twists his mouth, digging his teeth in his bottom lip for a moment before releasing. “I hope you have fun with him,” he says.

“Wait. Really?” Nik asks.

“Yes, really. If that’s what you want to do, you should do it. And you should enjoy yourself,” he says.

“So you’re _not_ jealous, then,” Nik says, slowly, not sure if she’s hearing him correctly.

“No,” he says. “Why would I be?”

Nik feels stung, and hates herself for it. She ducks her head and tries to hide her crimson cheeks. “I—I guess you have no reason to be.”

Stuie frowns. “No, wait. That’s not how I meant it. I just mean that you’re right. It’s unfair and selfish of me to expect you to—to just sit at home when I’m not around. I’m not good at this, Nik. I’m sorry.”

Nik sighs and rubs her hands over her face. “I know. Neither am I.” She lowers her hands. “I’m new to the whole _sleeping with another woman’s man_ thing.”

“Melissa is kind of laid back about what goes on on the road, but this is different,” Stuie says, touching Nik’s bare arm, stroking the inside of her elbow with the pad of his thumb.

“Because I’m your teammate and you have to see me every day,” Nik finishes for him.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Stuie agrees, slipping his hand away. “So... Go out with Jimmie and enjoy yourself.”

“And you enjoy your family,” Nik says.

Stuie smiles at her and, for the first time in a while, his eyes are clear, open to her. He leans in and gives her a full-bodied hug, squeezing her tightly. Nik closes her eyes, wanting to capture this moment and hold onto it forever.

“I’ll see you in a little while, I guess,” he says, turning his face, brushing his mouth against her cheek.

“Yeah. Me too,” Nik says, hooking her arms around his neck.

Someone coughs lightly behind them and Nik pulls away quickly. Zäta and Emma are standing there, holding hands, both wearing amused expressions on their faces.

“Hi guys,” Zäta says cheerily, waving at them.

“Hi Z. Emma,” Stuie greets them, going to give them hugs as well.

“Did we interrupt something here?” Zäta asks, giving Stuie a firm squeeze.

“Whatever you think you saw, it was purely innocent,” Nik says, poking Zäta in the ribs.

“Uh huh, sure,” Zäta says, stepping back and slipping off her coat. She takes Emma’s coat as well, and slings them over her shoulder. She has on a floor-length, long-sleeved silver lamé dress, and her dark hair is swept back in a French twist. She looks lovely, and Emma does too, in a lavender, princess-cut ball gown. 

“You two look like you stepped directly off the runway,” Stuie says, bowing to them chivalrously.

Emma rolls her eyes and laughs. “I don’t know about me, but Henna certainly did.” She slips her hand over Zäta’s.

“Says the actual, real-life model,” Zäta teases, leaning in and pecking Emma on the cheek.

The two of them share another laugh and head in, and Nik and Stuie follow them. When Jimmie spots Nik he smiles and waves at her, and Nik waves back. She feels Stuie’s hand press into her back, gently, just the slightest hint of pressure, before slipping away.

-

Neither Nik, nor Jimmie own any figure skates, so they bring their hockey gear with them to Campus Martius. Some of the kids on the ice rink recognize Nik and immediately swarm her for autographs, and she happily obliges while Jimmie watches with a look of mild amusement on his face.

Once she’s finished, and her fingers are cold and cramping, she looks over and sees Jimmie has gotten them both steaming thermoses of hot chocolate.

“ _Thought you might need this,_ ” he explains, gesturing to her hands and covering them with his mittened ones. “ _Does that ever get old?_ ”

“ _No_ ,” Nik insists, grinning at him and wrapping her hands around the thermos of hot chocolate. “ _Never_.” She looks after the group of kids, clutching their signed items in their hands, and smiles. “ _There might be a little girl in there who wants to play in the NHL. I’d like to think I helped inspire her to grab hold of her dream._ ”

Jimmie bumps his shoulder into Nik’s, as they sit together by the side of the rink and work on their hot chocolate. “ _Jo often says the same thing_.”

Nik sips her chocolate and scalds her lips. “ _My hero growing up was Wendy Gretzky. I think she was everyone’s hero._ ”

“ _Not Salming_?” Jimmie sounds surprised. “ _She was a defenseman, like you_.”

“ _Salming was a legend, but she never played in the NHL. Every girl I played with wanted to be Gretzky_ ,” Nik says. “ _Even me_.”

“ _Every guy too,_ ” Jimmie says with a laugh.

Nik leans into his shoulder and holds her thermos in her lap. “ _I wasn’t cut out to be a forward. I’d like to think I did well for myself._ ”

“ _I think you did_ ,” he agrees.

Nik smiles at him and he smiles back. She hadn’t known what to expect, but this is actually nice. It feels good not to worry about wives and children, and not to hear the guilty voice whispering at the back of her head. Nik doesn’t know if she _likes_ Jimmie quite like that, but she certainly likes him as a friend. Maybe once she’s no longer so hung up on Stuie, she could let herself give this a try.

Once Nik and Jimmie finish their hot chocolates, Jimmie takes her by the hand and they go for a skate. When Nik looks up at the slate-gray sky, she can see a light dusting of snow coming down. The snowflakes catch in her eyelashes and she laughs, rubbing them away with chilly fingers. She digs a pair of gloves out of her pocket with one hand, tightening her other hand around Jimmie’s.

Even as they skate together, hand in hand, and chat in low tones, mostly about hockey, Nik still finds her thoughts straying to Stuie, and she decides nothing more will happen with Jimmie. She does like him, but it would be unfair of her to string him along while she’s still wrapped up in Stuie. Even if she and Stuie quit doing whatever it is they’re doing, she’ll still need time to flush him completely out of her system.

Jimmie takes her back to her condo and pulls into an empty spot in front of the building. They sit together in his rental car, rubbing chilly hands in front of the heater.

“ _I guess this is it,_ ” he says to her, brightly. “ _I go back to Sweden tomorrow. I suppose I’ll see you for the IIHF World Championships, if the Wings get knocked out?_ ”

“ _Don’t take this the wrong way, but I really hope I don’t see you for the World Championships,_ ” Nik tells him, smiling fondly. 

“ _No offense taken._ ” Jimmie leans in like he’s going to kiss her, but instead he just wraps her up in a hug. “ _Find me after your season’s done._ ”

“ _I will_ ,” Nik says, hugging him back and stepping out of the car. “ _Thanks for this. I really needed it._ ”

Jimmie salutes her and she shuts the door, waving back.

Nik watches the taillights of his rental car fade into the night before she heads in to her place.

-

Nik doesn’t see Stuie again, outside the rink, until they hit the road a week later. He seems different, somehow, more sullen and Nik figures something must have happened with his family.

Stuie’s curled up in the seat behind Nik on the plane, head pillowed on his suit coat. She knows he’s not sleeping though; she’s seen him sleep before, and this isn’t it. 

Nik turns in her seat and peers over the headrest. “Hey, Stu. What’s going on with you?”

Stuie opens his eyes and blinks at her, unfocused and sleepy. “Mm, what?”

“You seem... off. Are you okay?” Nik asks.

The corners of Stuie’s mouth turn down. _That’s not good._ “I’m fine, Nik.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to talk about it here,” he hisses under his breath, closing his eyes again.

“When we get to our hotel then?” she asks. “I haven’t seen you in a while. We need to catch up.”

“Fine, when we get to our hotel,” he grumbles. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay,” she says, and she turns back in her seat.

When they get to the hotel and go to retrieve their room keys, Nik finds that someone messed up and she and Stuie are suitemates.

“There’s been a mistake,” Stuie tells the receptionist at the front desk. “We’re not supposed to be suitemates. I think I got the wrong—”

“I’m sorry, sir, we must have made a mix up. I can get that sorted for you.” The receptionist holds out her hand for the room key and smiles apologetically at Stuie.

Nik glances at him, carry-on bag clutched to her chest. She eyes the receptionist’s shiny name tag; it reads _Marie-Céline_. “Can’t you just find Jo or Z and trade rooms with one of them?”

Stuie looks like he hadn’t considered that. “Actually, I think I’ll just do that instead,” he says.

“We’re technically not supposed to, but I think I can make an exception for you, Monsieur Stuart.” The receptionist smiles prettily at him as she types a few things into her computer, before turning her attention to Nik.

After they both of them get their room keys and packets of brochures detailing all the fun things to do in _La Belle Province_ , Nik and Stuie head to the elevators to go up to their suite.

Nik pushes the “up” button and leans back to get a look at Stuie. “Can we talk about why you’ve been so sullen and moody today?” she asks.

Stuie rolls his eyes at her, unable to hide his annoyance. “Do we have to?”

“Yes, we do,” Nik says, as the elevators slide open. She gestures to the elevator cab. “After you.”

Stuie snorts, rolling his eyes again, and steps in. Nik follows after him and presses the button for their floor. Once the doors shut, she puts her carry-on bag down, between her feet, and leans back against the metal railing. Nik looks over expectantly at Stuie, who’s doing his best to act like he’s ignoring her.

Finally, he says, “Okay, fine. You’re right.”

“About what?” Nik asks.

“I’ve been in a _mood_.” He makes air quotes. His tone is snotty.

“Why?” she asks. “Did I do something?” Nik wonders if this has anything to do with her date with Jimmie.

Stuie sighs and drops his hands. “No, you didn’t do anything. It’s just... Melissa and the kids are going back to California. For good. She told me this morning, before I left for the airport,” he says, slumping back against the wall.

“God, Stuie, I’m sorry.” Nik goes over to him and takes his hand in hers. “I’m so, _so_ sorry. I was really hoping it would work out.”

“Cierra just could never get settled here,” he explains, wrapping his fingers around Nik’s. “And the boys cried every day. Melissa just couldn’t take it anymore, it made her feel so shitty. So, they’re leaving after we get back from the roadtrip. She wanted to wait so they could say goodbye.”

Nik’s heart aches for him, for how defeated and sad he sounds. She brings his hand to her lips and presses a kiss to the center of his palm. “Is there anything I can do?”

Stuie glances at her. “Not really... This helps, though,” he says, with a weary sigh.

“Okay, good then.” Nik rests her cheek on his shoulder. 

-

After they reach their two-bedroom suite, they split up, Stuie presumably to change rooms with Jo and Nik to put her things away and change into decent clothes so she, Jo, and Zäta can go out for dinner.

When she emerges from her room, freshly showered and dressed, she realizes Stuie hasn’t bothered to change rooms. She can see him sitting on his bed, through his slightly ajar door.

“I thought you were going to trade with Jo,” Nik calls out.

“I asked both her and Z, and they said no,” he replies.

“Really? Jo seriously turned you down?” Nik asks skeptically. Jo _was_ the one who practically threw her brother at Nik, after all. Nik is kind of surprised Jo hadn’t dragged Stuie out of the room by his hair.

“Yep,” Stuie says, shrugging. He’s sitting on his bed, back propped against his pillows, fiddling with his iPhone. 

Nik shuts the door gently behind her and goes over the Stuie’s minibar to root around for something to drink. She settles on a can of diet soda. “You want something to drink?”

“Nah, not really,” he says, patting the empty spot next to him on the bed. “C’mere.”

Nik joins him on the bed and puts the soda on the nightstand. Stuie reaches down and laces his fingers with hers. “What’s going on? Why are you being so weird?”

“This is weird?” Stuie glances at her.

“I don’t know. Maybe not.” Nik settles back against the pillows.

Stuie draws her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles, as if he’s cataloguing the parts of her body that she doesn’t like all that much. The skin is rough, callused there and Nik barely hides a wince. 

“This is nice,” Stuie says, pulling her hand into his lap, but just to hold it. “I like this.”

Nik lets her head come to rest on his chest and he rubs his cheek against her hair. “You don’t make a very good pillow though. Too hard.”

Stuie chokes down a laugh. “I’ll let that pass without comment.” He twists a little under her, pressing a light kiss to her forehead.

Nik closes her eyes, turning her head up toward him, and she feels Stuie’s lips slide gently over hers. He’s still holding her hand in his. His stubble is rough against her lips, and she wants to just rub her cheek against it, feel his bristly five o’ clock shadow rasp over her skin.

Stuie keeps the kiss gentle, innocent, before pulling back, letting go of her hand to touch her cheek. He traces his fingertips down her jawline, tilting her chin back up so that he can kiss her again. 

Nik sighs into the kiss, and feels Stuie under her, doing the same, the sweet rise and fall of his chest against hers. 

They lie there together, fingers interlocked, while rain and thunder rattle the windows. A hurricane could sweep through, Nik thinks, as she idly traces patterns on Stuie’s chest with her fingertips, and she wouldn’t let go of his hand.

Stuie sighs again, sounding restful, content. He lets go of her hand to get his arm behind her shoulders and pull her into him. When she puts her head on his chest, she thinks she can hear his heartbeat thudding faintly.

Nik wants to say something then, the urge tickling at her, but she isn’t sure what. She doesn’t have the words to say what she’s feeling, certainly not in English. And Stuie doesn’t understand Swedish, even though he seems to like when it when she lapses into her native tongue.

Nik pillows her cheek on his shoulder. “ _Jag följer dig genom livet, genom sommar, vinter och vår. Vartän ditt mål är givet, går jag varje steg du går._ ” 

It’s just a simple little poem her mother used to recite to Nik and her brother Staffan when they were little, before she tucked them in to bed. It always made her feel calm, safe.

Stuie squeezes his arm around her. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s silly,” she says, dismissively. 

“Whatever it was, I liked it,” Stuie says, gathering her closer. “You know I love it when you talk Swedish to me.”

Nik laughs. “I know. Why do you think I do it all the time?”

Stuie hums contentedly. “Because you love me?”

She knows he doesn’t mean anything by it, of course, but hearing that word come from his mouth still feels like an electrical shock, jolting through her system. Her heart tightens in her chest at the knowledge that he _doesn’t_ mean anything by it, that he can so easily toss that word around—love, _kärlek_ —without really feeling it. It should make her angry that he can say that to her, sling it at her like a stone, and so easily, but it doesn’t. Part of her—part of her that should just shut up and go away forever—wishes that he _did_ mean it.

Nik doesn’t realize she’s been quiet and brooding all this time until Stuie nudges her gently. “Did you fall asleep on me?” 

“Oh, no. I’m awake,” Nik says, feigning a yawn. “But I _am_ a little tired.”

“It’s all right. Go to sleep on me. I don’t care,” Stuie says. “Despite what you say, I make a fine human pillow.”

“Maybe I will, then.” Nik puts her head back down on his chest and Stuie wraps his arms around her.

Nik falls asleep like that, with Stuie’s arms secure around her.

-

Nik wakes up the next morning with Stuie curled around her, his fingers laced over her stomach. His mouth is pressed against her neck, in her hair, his breath hot and wet on her skin. Stuie’s cock juts against her hip, half-hard.

Nik closes her eyes and resolves to let him sleep a bit more, but he stirs against her a little and murmurs her name.

“Mm?” Nik asks.

“G’morning,” he mumbles against the side of her neck.

“ _God morgon, älskling_ ,” Nik replies, turning in his arms to face him. His eyes are still closed, but she can see movement flickering beneath his eyelids as he starts to come out of it. He has sleep grit in the creases at the corners of his eyes that she brushes away with the pad of her thumb.

Stuie blinks his eyes open, unfocused at first, before honing in on Nik. The smile that twitches across his beautiful mouth makes Nik’s heart stutter in her chest. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good. And you?” Nik asks.

“Better,” Stuie says, tucking his pillow under his cheek. He slides a hand over her side and rubs gently.

“Better? Than good?” Nik laughs and Stuie’s smile reaches his eyes at that. 

All he says is, “Yep,” before pulling her in and kissing her.

Stuie’s breath is stale with sleep and his lips are chapped, and Nik shouldn’t find it as appealing as she does, but all she wants is to lie in this bed with him forever and kiss him like this. Stuie keeps his lips over hers, never quite breaking the kiss, and she drinks them in. Nik tangles her legs with his under the covers and Stuie laughs in her ear, low and throaty. They’re both still wearing their clothes from the night before, but somehow even this gets the blood racing through her veins, gets her heartbeat rattling against her ribs.

“You’re kind of sappy,” she says. “ _Min älskade gullgosse._ ”

“What are you saying?” Stuie asks.

“Just a whole lot of nothing,” Nik says, waving it off.

Stuie reaches up, catching her hand and pulling it down. He presses his lips against her fingertips. “It doesn’t sound so silly to me.”

“They’re silly things in Swedish that we say to someone we care about,” Nik says, growing flustered. She can feel her cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“You’re blushing.” Stuie beams at her.

“I’m not,” Nik lies.

“Your cheeks are red,” he says, laughing as he runs his fingertip over the apple of her cheek. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“I’m no good at words.” Nik sighs.

“Neither am I,” Stuie says, curling her closer, locking his hands together at the small of her back. “I’d like to think I’m good at showing.”

“You are,” Nik says, stroking her hand over his arm.

“So are you.” Stuie breaks into another smile, as if his body has a mind of its own and he can’t help but go along with it.

“Will you show me some more?” Nik touches his cheek, traces her fingertips down to his chin, explores the lines and angle of his cheek and jawline. She pulls her fingers back up to his hairline and lets her fingers curl loosely in his soft brown hair.

Stuie rolls on top of her and kisses her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, cupping her chin in his fingers. Nik shoves her hands under his shirt, greedily, pushing it off his shoulders. Stuie breaks the kiss long enough to help her pull it off before sealing his lips against hers again. He pops open the button on the fly of Nik’s jeans and eases them down her hips. He turns his head and presses his lips against her shoulder, kissing her through the thin cotton of her t-shirt.

After Stuie sits back and pulls her jeans off, Nik scrambles up to slip off her bra and shirt, and Stuie hops off the bed to undo his jeans and kick them off. She pauses to admire the flexing of his muscles, the bare wings of his shoulder blades, the dimples in his back just above the waistband of his boxers.

Stuie turns and catches her watching him. He grins at her. “Can’t get enough, eh?”

“Never!” Nik curls her legs underneath her body and waits for him to come back to her.

Stuie crawls back on the bed on his hands and knees, stalking her like a wild animal, before tackling her around the waist and smothering her face in kisses.

Nik rolls her hips up against Stuie’s, sliding her wet cunt over his cock. Stuie hisses under his breath and lifts his head, brushing some of her hair out of her face.

“God, Nikki, my wallet, it’s—” He waves an arm in the general direction of where he tossed his pants.

“Go get it, then.” She laughs breathlessly.

“ _Fuck_.” Stuie tightens his grip on her.

“I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to fuck me without one,” Nik says.

Stuie’s hands spasm on her waist. “Jesus. I hate you.”

“You don’t,” Nik teases.

“No, I really, really do hate you.” He closes his eyes and drags in a deep breath. “I—God, Melissa and I don’t even fuck without a condom.”

Nik gazes up at him, stroking a hand on his back. “I’m on birth control. And I’m clean.”

“Fuck,” Stuie says again.

“You keep saying that but...” Nik trails off. She drags her short, blunt fingernails down to the small of his back. Stuie shivers against her, inadvertently grinding his cock against her cunt, and a soft, embarrassing moan falls from Nik’s lips.

Stuie curses again, under his breath, and presses his forehead against her bare shoulder. “Maybe just this once.” He sounds strained, as if he’s using all his considerable strength not to just take her then and there.

“Yes,” Nik says.

Stuie spreads her legs, rubbing his big warm hands over her inner thighs. His blue eyes are darkened with desire and he wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. When he moves over her, his cock leaves a wet streak across his belly.

Stuie wraps a hand around himself, stroking down the shaft, his fingers growing slippery with precome. He runs the tip of his tongue along the lush curve of his bottom lip, and Nik imagines—remembers—those lips and tongue on her, greedily urging her toward orgasm.

“Stuie,” she gasps. “ _Vänligen bråttom._ ”

Stuie shudders and fits himself against her in one fluid movement, bracing himself over her with one arm. He strokes his cock with his other hand.

“Are you—are you absolutely sure? Just say it and I’ll stop,” he manages, barely above a whisper. “I need to know if you’re sure.”

Nik looks up at him and nods before finding her voice to say, “ _Ja, tack._ ”

Stuie closes his eyes and, after a few moments—Nik wonders if he’s giving himself a silent pep talk—he guides himself into her. It doesn’t feel all that different, despite what she’s heard from girl friends and read in magazines, except she can _feel_ him more than she does with the condom. The fact Stuie is fucking her without any barrier between them makes her stomach do somersaults.

Stuie seems to sense it—or maybe he can feel it too—and kisses her, as he begins to fuck her. He moves slowly at first, fingers digging into her hips, and she urges him on.

“ _Snälla knulla mig hårdare, Stuie,_ ” Nik begs him, clutching at his back.

Stuie still doesn’t seem to understand the words that are flowing from her lips—she’ll explain to him, some day—but it doesn’t matter. He does as she asks, bracing himself over her with a hand and snapping his hips forcefully, pounding her into the mattress.

Nik bites down hard on her knuckles and stifles a sharp noise that threatens to find its way out of her.

That spurs Stuie on even more and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, as he quickens his pace. Nik doesn’t even really have a chance to savor the feel of Stuie, his cock sliding in and out of her, slick with their desire. 

Stuie grips Nik by the hips and pulls her down hard, as he angles his own hips up, and he nails a spot in her that elicits a muffled cry from Nik and causes her to break the skin of her knuckles with her teeth. 

He does it again and again, targeting that spot deep inside her, thrusting against it, until Nik feels the beginnings of an orgasm brew inside her like a great storm.

“Brad, Stuie, Brad, I’m going to—I’m almost there,” she gasps.

Stuie groans and squeezes her hips in his hands, grinding down to a halt. Nik touches his shoulder, confused, and sucks in deep breaths.

“What are you—” she manages.

Stuie silences her with a kiss and rolls his hips languorously. It’s suddenly so quiet that Nik is sure she can hear her own heartbeat, and Stuie’s too. Stuie fucks her like that for a bit, maddeningly, tantalizingly slow. He thrusts his tongue in her mouth, mimicking the movement of his hips.

Finally, Stuie must have had enough of that, because he starts fucking her in earnest again. Nik feels a little piece of her, somewhere, give way, and then she’s shattering under him. 

She has no other words, in either English or Swedish, to describe it. Everything in her twists, goes white-hot, and flames lick at her skin until she can hardly take it anymore. Part of her almost wants to tell him to stop, that it’s too much, too _intense_ , but the other part of her likes it this way. There is still a tiny knot in her, and Nik pumps her hips against his, meeting him thrust for thrust, seeking out release.

She feels it begin to unravel within her, finally, and she sinks welcomely into the liquid heat. Nik can’t hear anything but the pounding of her heartbeat and her own gasping breaths.

Stuie fucks her through the last of it, his movements growing jerky, hips stuttering. Nik forces herself to look at him, watches his face convulse, watches his lips part wetly. She feels his hand move between her thighs, and he pulls out of her, a fist wrapped around his pulsing cock.

He finishes himself off over the bedspread, and Nik thinks, idly, that she’ll take the laundry down herself. It would be kind of rude to have the hotel maid handle their soiled sheets.

Stuie collapses next to Nik once he’s spent, and rests his cheek against her hip. His hair is damp and his forehead is hot and sticky against her skin. He breathes in deeply and wraps a hand around the curve of her calf.

“Hm,” Nik murmurs. She wants to get up and clean off, but she can’t make her body move. 

Stuie brushes his mouth against her hipbone, somehow, without really even moving. “Mm. Nothing.”

“We should clean up,” she suggests, moving her fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

“Probably.” He crawls up her body and drops his head on her shoulder. He winces.

“What?” Nik asks. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“No, I just... I sat in my jizz.” Stuie frowns deeply and swipes his come across Nik’s belly.

“Oh, gross.” Nik flicks it at him.

Stuie laughs, high-pitched and happy, and smears it with his thumb and forefinger. He waggles his fingers at Nik’s hair. “I hear it doubles as mousse.”

Nik slaps at his hands. “I like you, but not enough to have your jizz in my hair. _Din jävel!_ ”

Stuie giggles, letting her push his hands away. “You like me?”

“What do _you_ think?” Nik asks, rolling her eyes.

“I think you like me,” he says, beaming at her.

His bright, sky-blue eyes are warm and radiant, like the rays of the sun, and when he smiles at her, her heart snags on it.

“What about you? Do you like me too?” Nik asks.

Stuie runs his palms down her sides, tracing his fingers over her ribs. “What do _you_ think?”

Nik swallows past the lump that’s forming in her throat. “I—I don’t know. I think maybe you do?” she says, uncertainly.

Stuie’s expression turns serious, as he leans up and kisses her lightly, chastely on the mouth. “You know I do. Don’t you?”

“I’m never really sure. Usually it feels like you do. But then I start thinking, and—”

“Don’t,” Stuie interrupts. “Don’t think.”

“But I can’t help it,” Nik says. “And I need to say this. I need you to—I need you to hear this from me.”

“All right,” he says, giving her a brief, jerky nod. “All right. I’ll listen.”

“I do worry a lot. It’s silly of me, I know. And sometimes I get so jealous, thinking about you going back to Melissa when we’re done. I know that you love her. I’d never try to force myself between you. I just... Sometimes I wish things were different, is all.”

“What do you mean?” Stuie asks, though he sounds like he already knows.

“Sometimes, when I’m feeling mean, I wish—I wish that there was no wife or children. I wish I had met you first.” Nik lowers her head into her hands, ashamed, but also relieved that she’s said it.

This is as close as she’ll ever come to admitting what’s written on the inside of her heart, in the places no one else is allowed to see. If Stuie rejects her, rejects this, she’ll live. But she will find the words and burn them out of her heart.

“God, I’m sorry,” Stuie says.

“What? Why are you sorry?” Nik asks, staring at him, confused.

“I didn’t know, Nik. I’m so sorry,” he echoes.

“Stop saying you’re sorry.” Nik rubs at her nose. She sounds congested now, and her eyes ache. It’s probably just allergies or something. It’s definitely not because she’s going to cry.

Stuie touches her wrist, pulling her hand away from her face. “Please don’t cry.”

“You don’t,” she stammers.

“I don’t what?” Stuie rubs his thumb over her pulse.

“I—I feel more strongly than you do, if you do at all,” Nik says, hoarsely. Her throat hurts. Everything hurts. 

Maybe she was wrong, maybe this _will_ kill her.

“No, no, please, Nikki.” Stuie lets go of her hand to wraps his arms around her, pressing his chin into her shoulder.

“I need to go shower,” she mumbles.

“So do I. It’s not a big deal,” he says.

“I really do need to leave,” she says, though she lets him continue to hold her.

“I didn’t know,” he says, mournful and sad. _Is he sad that he doesn’t feel the same way?_ “I’ve been really stupid. And selfish.”

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” Nik says.

“I was stupid, and I didn’t think about what this was doing to you,” he says, sounding half lost in his own thoughts now. “I must not have done a very good job of showing you.”

“Showing me what?”

“How I felt. How I feel,” he says, rubbing her back in slow circles. “I just... I’m so fucking bad at this, Nikki. As you’ve seen firsthand, now.” Stuie laughs wryly and Nik wonders what about this situation is so funny.

“This is such a mess,” Nik says, pressing her face against his shoulder.

“We’ll figure it out together,” he says quietly.

Nik goes still against him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean... I’m willing to see where this goes. With you.” He nuzzles his lips against the shell of her ear.

“But—but what about your wife?” Nik asks.

“It’s... complicated,” Stuie says. “I know that isn’t much of an answer, and you deserve a real one, but that’s the best I can give right now. Can you accept that for now?”

“I just want to know where we stand,” Nik says.

Stuie slides his hands down to Nik’s and takes them in his. “I know where I stand. I know that I need you.”

“I need you too,” Nik admits. It feels like a weight she wasn’t even aware of has been lifted off her shoulders.

Stuie tips her chin up and feathers his lips over hers. “I think we’re on the same page, then.”

“I probably won’t stop worrying—”

“Then I’ll remind you every day, if I have to,” Stuie says against her mouth. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Nik takes a deep breath, exhales, and then does it again. “Okay,” she says. “Okay.”

Stuie kisses her again, and Nik melts into it, against his bare chest. His arms are firm around her and it feels as if the world’s stopped spinning just for them.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


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